


What Jealousy Undoes

by PuzzleSavant



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Friendship, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-01-11 06:17:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuzzleSavant/pseuds/PuzzleSavant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Green with envy, Phobos and his apt cronies seek to remove Abel from Cook and Cain's sides. However, before their plan can be brought to fruition, Abel's companions rear their heads and blow the whistle on the impending doom. Simultaneously, Abel is doing his best to not only please his superiors, but to be a supportive friend to Ethos, who is struggling to meet his Fighter's standards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fan-fic is a collection of two requests from the More Biting Request page. The anonymous requests I have filled are as follows:  
> Praxis/Ethos Angst - Ethos wants to get closer to Praxis in every single way. Praxis, still mourning his old navigator and in heavy lust with Abel, is jut not that into Ethos. I would like oodles of angst and it can be resolved or not.
> 
> Jealous and pissed off Cain - Porthos and the rest of the navigators that doesn't like Abel make some plans for humiliating revenge, but it backfired BADLY when Cain gets a whiff of it. He messes up whatever they cooked up and then once again lays claims on his navigator's sweet ass.

            This spider had nothing to fear. It was the largest of its kind and blended in with the night. Only a single red diamond on its back could give it away - but by then, it was too late. Already this spider had consumed two meager appetizers, and now it was ready for the main course. Speaking of which, it was already running, further tangling itself in the spider’s dark and sticky tunnels. Surely this morsel knew there was no escape.

‘No matter.’ thought the spider. ‘He’ll be mine, soon.’

            The boy stumbled on one of the monster’s threads, sending a twinge of excitement through the web and into its body. A few seconds later, the boy had his feet under him again, and took off at a desperate sprint through the tunnel – but no matter how fast he ran, he could not dodge the spider’s thread.

Touch after touch, violent vibrations were sent into the arachnid’s body, exciting it until saliva dripped from its fangs. There could be no escape for the angelic piece of flesh. His desperation only caused him to become further tangled in his doom. Still, the boy did not give up. He tore the silk, got his feet under him, and with one last burst of strength, he tore through the tunnel until the web was too thick.

Once more the little blond haired boy tripped on the spider’s sticky thread, but this time, he could not get up. His energy was spent. There was no escape from this web.

“ _Yes_. Finally.” said the spider as he moved to his victim. “Yes. _Yes_.”

            Only frightened whimpers could be heard from the boy as the giant spider lifted him into the air, and wrapped him in a blanket of silk.

The boy was begging, now. Begging for release - but of a different kind.

            Suddenly – from what the spider could see – there were hands. Hands shot out from the spider’s body and ripped the Navigator’s shirt open. Perked nipples stood atop a heaving chest while a small bump began to form in his nether regions. The boy’s pants were already unbuttoned and unzipped - to the spider’s delight, but he saw something more delightful in the Navigator’s eyes. His dark eyes yearned for him. As did his swollen, _unmarked_ lips.

“You’re mine.” growled the spider.

            The Commander’s eyes opened abruptly. The tension in his shoulders and abdomen slowly drained into the bed as he adjusted his breathing. His body was heated, but a cold sweat still clung to him - just like his brain tried to hold onto that fading dream.

            Unsure of whether to be concerned or enticed by his dream, Cook removed the covers from his body, and exposed himself to the cool air. He then proceeded to go thru his usual morning routine: turning off his alarm an hour early; showering; teeth; hair; clothes - done. Only one thing left to do.

“This is Commander Cook to CC.”

“… Yes, sir.”

“I need you to send a message to the Reliant’s Navigator: Abel.”

“Yes, sir.” Clicking could be heard coming from the other end of the link.

“Tell him I need to speak with him at 0730 AM.” said Cook as he adjusted his sleeve.

The clicking stopped. “That’s during your breakfast hour, sir.”

“I’m well aware of that. He will be joining me for breakfast.”

“Yes, sir.” The clicking continued.

“Cook out.” Replied the Commander as he closed the link to Central.

            He then proceeded to gather his papers and writing pad for the day. Then, before he left, he reviewed yesterday’s battle footage, taking particular interest in the Reliant’s sudden disappearance. Moments before the ship disappeared, Abel did not sound right. Perhaps there was a malfunction.

 

             
            The mess was more crowded than usual. That was the first thing Abel noticed upon walking into the room. The Fighters were compacted in the farthest corner of their side, while the Navigators seemed to pulse with an invisible energy that Abel could not get off the tip of his tongue. He ignored his peaked curiosity, and tried to catch a glimpse of his partner. It was difficult to see Cain, as he was surrounded by a company of Fighters, so Abel compelled himself to grab a tray of food. As he did so, he noticed Ethos sitting unaccompanied at the table closest to the entrance. His back was to him, so he didn’t look up or register the electric buzz that fueled everyone’s whispers.

            Walking behind him, Abel tapped Ethos’ left shoulder, and sat in the seat opposite him while his face was turned. A juvenile smile played on Abel’s scared lips as his friend turned around to suddenly see Abel seated in front of him.

“Oh! Abel!”

“Hey.” Abel laughed.

“You look really happy.” stated Ethos.

“Ah, well…” Briefly, Abel’s mind wandered to his and Cain’s experiment last night. A blossoming blush filtered through his cheeks while his modest smile turned into a grin. “Owning someone’s ass – as the Fighter’s might say – makes me feel on top of the world.”

“I would, too, if I received a fan fare like you two did.”

“Yeah, I was not expecting that at all... It was kind of embarrassing, actually.”

“What? Why? You and Cain deserved that.”

“I’m just not the type of person who enjoys the lime light. Anyway, did you talk to Praxis?”

            Ethos shook his head and hummed a negative in reply.

“He doesn’t want me. I know it for a fact… He wants you, Ab-.”

Two loud ‘pops’ erupted behind Abel as if someone were opening Champaign bottles next to a megaphone. Following the obnoxious burst were cheers, applauding, and chants of Abel’s name.

Abel turned in his seat to face the eruption of the cacophony. His hand was still over his heart, feeling it race with the onslaught of adrenaline rushing through his veins. The Navigator’s, his peers and family, were congratulating him once more. The loud ‘pops’ had come from little air cannons filled with shredded paper as confetti; since there were trying to compete with their counterparts in showing their gratitude. They knew they could not be as loud as the Fighters had been, but the fervor and reverence were still there. Even Abel’s hand motions, which begged for silence, could do nothing to calm them. The only ones who were quiet chose to exclude themselves from the celebration, and had seated themselves at the farthest table.

Like reptiles, Phobos, Porthos, and three equally irked Navigators were targeting Abel with a malicious glare. To them, Abel was not special, he was a sham. Phobos was the one with true talent; and Cain deserved better.

“Please, don’t start singing, ‘He’s a Jolly Goodfellow.’” Abel pleaded with a smile.

“No, we weren’t going to go that far.” said Sponde, a lanky Navigator with a blonde goatee. “Besides, it already looks like you’re about to have a heart attack.”

“I think he just didn’t want his ears to bleed, Sponde.” replied Thebe, a short, yet fierce Navigator with a short devilock.

“I think you all are just jealous.”

“Yeah, right.”

“We’ve heard you in the showers.”

“Like I said, you’re jealous.”

“Guys,” interrupted Abel. “Thank you, but this wasn’t necessary. You didn’t have to do this.”

“Doesn’t matter if you wanted us to do this, or not, Abel.” replied Sponde. “You kicked ass yesterday.”

“You and Cain are amazing!” added Opsis, the youngest Navigator aboard the Sleipnir.

“Yeah. How did you ever manage to work with him? He can be such a… Well, you know.”

“Oh! Ah, ha, ha! I admit Cain can be a handful - but I think he’s just misunderstood. We’ve managed to work out our kinks since we were paired, though. I mean, it wasn’t easy or anything. It just took time.”

            The Navigators nodded and hummed their comprehension. They listened intently to the words that fell from Abel’s lips. Many of the boys smaller and younger than Abel looked up to him with as much respect and wonder as they did Keeler. The only ones who saw disgrace in the matter were still peering from under their bangs across the mess.

“Tch. Do you hear them, Porthos?” sneered Phobos.

            Porthos, an intellectual Navigator - though stocky for his size, looked up from his meal, giving his much weaker companion his undivided attention.

“They’re talking about the Reliant again.”

            A huff and roll of his eyes showed his disinterest in hearing about the ship that faced a Colteron head-on.

“They’ll tire of it soon. They’re not the only ones who can face a ‘Teron unyieldingly.”

“I agree with Porthos.” said Alcor, a silver-tongued Navigator with glossy hair. “Abel did nothing special. He just lined his hunk of metal up with an incoming death wish.”

“You’re right. He just prostrated himself to get to his current position.” spoke Rana, with slicked back hair.

“Phobos, what was that nonsense about a malfunction? You said that it wasn’t.” questioned Vanth, a much taller Navigator with cropped hair.

            Phobos straitened in his seat and placed his tablet on the corner of the table. The air about him spoke of regal promises, but at a hefty price. At least the Navigators were finally looking up to the real individual with expertise.

“Abel’s holding out on us. He’s created a cloaking device.” Phobos stated bluntly.

“He what?!”

“That son of a bitch!”

“I am planning on going to Keeler about this, because this is uncalled for. He’s supposed to be helping us survive this battle, but all he cares about is climbing up the promotional ladder.”

“How does Deimos feel?” asked Alcor. “I know he’s friends with Cain.”

“He saw the same thing. I know he did.”

“What did he say?”

“How the hell should I know? He doesn’t talk!”

“He talks.” stated Rana.

“Yeah, when he’s feeling generous.”

“You should pester him more.” Vanth said. “He answers to you.”

“Well, whoever was his previous Navigator, he didn’t do a good job breaking him in.”

“I think you should go straight to Cook with the matter.”  stated Porthos. “Keeler’s too nice to Abel. He’s practically his protégé.”

“I can’t see Cook without going through Keeler, first.”

“Wouldn’t Keeler know about the device already? The Reliant could have been testing it.” suggested Rana.

“He didn’t sound like it on the com, but I think Cook might know something.”

“Dishonesty leads to exposure,” Alcor added. “so I wouldn’t stick your nose in Cook’s affairs.”

“It’s not my plan to piss off Cook.” snapped Phobos. “I’m going to play incompetence and concern, and see where that leads me.”

“Why not confront Abel?” asked Vanth. “Once he realizes we’re aware of his invention, he’ll be forced to report his findings.”

“That could be done.” said Rana.

“I like the sound of the latter.” commented Alcor. “Confronting him.”

“Fine, if things don’t go well with Cook, then we’ll talk to Abel.” said Phobos. “In the meantime, everyone should ask around and see if anyone’s heard of a cloaking device.”

            The Navigators around Phobos smiled devilishly. Each one praying that things would not go well with Cook.

‘I wonder what they’re smiling about.’ thought Ethos, as he gazed past the small crowd that had gathering around Abel.

            He was going to turn his attention back to his meal when his eyes met Abel’s. His friend smiled apologetically and returned his attention back to the other Navigators.

Abel had grown so popular. He even felt like there was an invisible rift growing in between their friendship, but there was nothing he could do to stop Abel’s success. As a good friend, he knew he should be proud for Abel, and give him the encouragement and support that he needed; but there was something ugly in his heart that wouldn’t let him fully love Abel. Perhaps it was jealousy? Praxis did have an interest in him.

Ethos turned to look across the room at his Fighter. He caught him glimpsing at Abel every now and again, but he was busy fiddling with his tablet. He seemed to be on that more often. Seeing that, Ethos wondered if he should try sending him personal messages in order to establish a relationship with him; but what good would that do? He was clearly more interested in being Abel’s Navigator. Everyone wanted to have some sort of relationship with him, so what honest chance did he have of finding someone that wanted him?

“Ethos.”

            Ethos perked up at the sound of his name. It was Abel. He had a concerned look on his face.

“You looked really spaced out there. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” lied Ethos, as he continued to look at the ground.

“Can I be brutally honest, and say that you don’t?”

            Ethos cracked a smile at this, but he still wouldn’t meet Abel’s eyes.

“Hey, come on. What’s wrong?” questioned Abel, moving closer in his seat. “Does it have anything to do with Praxis?”

“Abel… I don’t think I should talk to him. He really doesn’t want me.”

“Well, why not? Did you talk to him?”

            Ethos shook his head. A hard look of disappointment was still on his face, and his eyes could not meet Abel’s glowing gaze.

“He wants y-.”

            Abel’s tablet suddenly flashed and beeped: a sign that an important message was coming in from Central Command. Abel wasted no time opening the message.

“Abel, report to Commander Cook’s office immediately. Please, acknowledge.”

“Acknowledged.” replied Abel.

“Sounds pretty important if he’s calling you this early.” Ethos said with the smallest of smiles.

“I guess so. I hope it’s about that malfunction, but what were you saying about Praxis? Who does he want?”

            Ethos’ face reddened. He couldn’t bring himself to tell Abel the truth. Not when he was so busy, now. He would try talking to Praxis, first, before he went to Abel for help. It seemed unfair to saddle his friend with all his problems, especially when he hadn’t taken an initiative to try and resolve them.

“Uh… It’s nothing. Never mind that. You better go see Cook.”

“You sure?” Abel asked.

“Yeah. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay. I’ll see you at lunch.” said Abel, getting up from his seat.

“Goodbye, Abel.”

            Abel waved at Ethos as he exited the mess. Ethos waved back in reply, and then turned his attention to Praxis… It was going to be a tiresome day for the little Navigator.

 

 

            Keeler was getting ready. His ironed shirt was neatly laid on the dresser while is tablet and papers rested on the bed, where he longed to be. The dark discoloration under his eyes was more evident. Even his eyes were starting to feel more strained than usual. Reading the reports from yesterday’s battle was more of a chore than usual.

            As he was reading, Encke strolled in. Despite the sudden intrusion, Keeler felt no need to guide his shirt over his chest any faster.

“Oh! Did you forget something, Encke?”

Encke huffed in reply. “No.”

            The Fighter out stretched his hand. In it was a bottle of pills. Keeler looked at the bottle, and then back at Encke with a blank expression. When realization found him, he tried to spread a smile across his face, and turned to his dresser to open the top drawer.

“Encke, I already have-.”

“You left these in Medical, last night.”

            Keeler searched the left corner of his drawer. Finding nothing but clothes within, he turned to his partner to grab the pills with a childish smile.

“Huh, I guess I was more tired than I thought.”

            Encke remained emotionless as he took on an authoritarian role, crossing his arms in front of his chest and standing with his back erect.

“Keeler, we need to choose our Team Officers.”

“I know. I haven’t forgot.” replied Keeler, as he moved to cross the room. Encke placed a hand on his shoulder, making sure not to come across too demanding. Keeler just smiled and sighed in return. “I’m just going to do my hair, Encke.”

            Their eyes met for a brief moment before the Fighter released him.

“You’re worrying too much… I’m fine.”

            Keeler picked up his brush and ran the tiny bristles through his hair. All the while, Encke stood in the doorway, eventually leaning on one of the frames.

“You said that the last time.”

“I felt fine then, and I feel alright, now.”

“So judge me if I’m concerned for your health. I don’t want a repeat of last night.”

            Keeler continued to listen as he braided his hair.

“Cook was furious.” Encke said after a pause.

“He wasn’t furious.”

“You didn’t mention you were having heart palpitations. You didn’t take the necessary precautions.”

“Like I could predict the future, Encke.”

“We could have started training replacements sooner.”

“They’re not replacements, they’re our backup plan.”

“Dammit, Keeler, are you concerned at all?”

“Yes... I just didn’t want anyone to worry.”

            Keeler let his braid rest on his right shoulder. The feeling of guilt that shadowed his eyes weighed his head down, and prevented him from showing Encke his true thoughts. The Lead Fighter ran his hand over his short hair, sighed, and walked away from the doorway.

“Shit… Goddamn, Keeler.”

“I didn’t think it would get that bad.” said Keeler, as he stepped out of the bathroom.

“I told you to take it easy.”

“I know, and I did.”

“No, you didn’t, Keeler.” pleaded Encke, wishing to end the argument.

“Look, I’m sorry. Okay? I really didn’t think that would happen.”

            Encke finally looked Keeler in the eye. His Navigator wanted to end their disagreement just as bad as he did.

“So who do you choose?” sighed Encke.

“The Reliant, of course. That’s what Cook wants.” said Keeler, as he maneuvered around the room gathering more papers and his tablet.

“Not the reliant. I don’t trust Cain.”

“Well, there’s no one else I recommend.”

“There’s the Tiberius, or even the Equinox. Cain has yet to show any leadership material. He’s juvenile to say the least.”

“I understand, Encke, but the Reliant seems like the best decision. Abel’s more than capable of leading a team.”

“It’s not Abel I’m concerned about.”

            Keeler huffed and turned to look at Encke. There were only so many times he could reorganize and shuffle his papers around to make himself look busy.

“Can we discuss this later in the evening? I’m in bit of a rush.”

            Encke automatically looked skeptical. His Navigator was always in a hurry, always had a deadline, always had more to do than should have been placed on his shoulders. He supposed he couldn’t blame Keeler for not resting; but now he had the opportunity to place some of that load on someone else’s shoulders. Why did he have to be an obstacle for himself now?

“I was hoping to give Commander Bering an answer before the end of the day.” said Encke flatly.

“Hmm. Didn’t give me a lot of time to think about this, did ya?” said Keeler with a chuckle.

            Encke retuned his smile.

“I thought you were on top of these things, Keeler.”

“Well, apparently I’m not… How about this: we’ll message each other throughout the day. If we can’t decide by noon, then we’ll tell Bering we’re at a standstill.”

“And we’ll ask for his suggestion.”

“He’s going to pick the Reliant.”

“I beg to differ.”

“We’ll see.” replied Keeler, as he checked the time on his tablet.               

“Fine… But if you feel ill-.”

“I’ll go to Medical.”

“No. You’ll tell me and I’ll either escort you there, or meet you _and_ the person who escorted you.”

“Okay.” replied Keeler, as Encke turned to leave.

“And take your pills.”

“Goodbye, Encke.” smiled Keeler.

Encke finally slipped out of the room. The pill bottle was in Keeler’s hands. He spared no hesitation as he took the required amount, only wincing as he felt the little capsules slide down his throat-hole. Next time, he would remember to take them with water, but he couldn’t help but feel sad at the idea of taking the pills every morning. It meant that he was weak. That people couldn’t rely on him anymore... Was it really up to Abel to take all that work on his shoulders, and save them?

Whatever the case was, he wasn’t going to let this malady interfere with work. He had to be strong.

“I’m going to be fine.”


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Silently sneaks into the Archive, late at night, and uploads a new chapter.... Mua, ha, ha, ha, ha. I am the night, I am the- *trips.*

            “The most common human fear is fear of the dark; a no man’s land where all fear the unknown. No one knows what lurks within the dark, but the promise of a nightmare always awaits. This space we travel in is no different. A perfect darkness that not even the brightest star can reach. Only the brave will venture here - but how long will their confidence last? Too many pale and dead galaxies live here, breaking down those indomitable walls the men like to hide behind.

            “How much longer are we meant to wander through their territory, being taken out one by one? I’m starting to fear for the worst. These signs of death must be heeded – but some of us have to die. Some of us have to quench their thirst for blood. Can the Reliant save us-.”

“Goddammit, Perot!”

            A navigator with cropped brown hair takes a leather bound notebook from the hands of a towering Fighter. Perot, who is two heads taller than Bri, let the little creature have it. He had shared what he wanted to with the Fighters that had gathered around.

“Stop taking my notebook.”

“Or what, tiny?”

“Or else I’ll edit you out of my epic.”

“You mean your diary?”

“This, _diary_ ,is a catalog of our journey, thus far; and as long as one of us returns to Earth, then the Arpachy will go down in history – or at least _I_ will.”

“Heh, you’re a riot, Bri.” said Perot as he tried to take the notebook from his Navigator’s hands.

“Don’t-.”

“What makes you think anyone is going to care about you and Perot, Bri?” asked Mizar, a thin Fighter with red hair that framed his face. “We’re just average ranked Fighters. The Reliant’s in a league of their own.”

“Speaking of the Reliant.” commented Kale, another Fighter with long, framed hair.

            The doors to the mess opened to reveal Cain.

 “Alright, Cain!”

“Woo!”

            The Fighter’s side of the mess erupted in a thunderous trumpet of applauding and wolf howls. A few even went so far as to bang their silverware against the trays. Meanwhile, the Navigator’s looked on – some in awe and mirth, but others could care less for the noise. Including Bri, who decided to return to his side of the mess while his notebook was safe.

Cain smirked at the sight of the Fighters.

He expected no less. They did something similar when he was given the rank of top Fighter back on the Space Station. However, this was a joint victory, and he could only imagine Abel’s face when the Navigator’s surprised him. He deserved the fanfare just as much as him… but Abel was a humble person; thus, making the situation more interesting.

Without breaking stride, Cain gamely walked up to the Fighter’s table, and took a seat across from Deimos, who was also amongst his rowdy companions. The smirk on Cain’s face gradually grew as he received pats on the back and congratulations. Someone was even bold enough to give him a tray of borsht.

“Ya’ll are a bunch of kiss-asses, you know that?”

            There was laughter in reply.

“Cain, I don’t know what you did to make your Navigator’s balls so large, but - that was awesome.” said Kale.

“I’ve never seen a Navigator go after a ‘Teron like that.” commented Perot.

“Hey, a Navigator’s only as good as the Fighter can make ‘em out to be.” said Cain. “Plus, Abel was already the best.”

            Some Fighter’s snorted at Cain’s comment while others lightly chuckled. No one was going to argue otherwise, and Cain knew it. No other Navigator had shown as much courage as Abel.

‘And no one ever will.’ thought Cain.

“I think, if another Navigator tried that, they would die.” commented a Fighter.

“I wouldn’t say that.” said Perot. “The Equinox tried to lend a hand.”

“Yeah, _tried_ to.”

“Well, I think after Abel’s maneuver, the other Navigators are going to try to pull the same stunt. I mean, he set the bar pretty high.”

“That’s what we’re saying, Perot.” said Mizar. “If the other Navigators _did_ try to be like Abel, they would just fall short of the mark; and get us killed.”

“Well, not all the Navies are _that_ incompetent.”

“Yeah, but they still shouldn’t try pulling that shit in the middle of battle. During practice: okay. During a battle: uh-uh.”

            Cain continued to listen to the conversations around him as he started eating. The others seemed to have gone back to conversing in their usual groups; none of which he was intent on joining at the moment. There was borscht at hand. Still, he kept an ear out for any degrading or questioning comments in the various conversations. The last thing Cain needed was for anyone to start questioning his or Abel’s prowess. Though, Abel might be his most precious possession, he wasn’t his only weakness. There were plenty of raw nerves and sores that an opponent could target. That’s if they knew where to look.

            Looking up from his meal, Cain glanced around to see if Abel had entered the mess. His partner was still absent - but from out of the corner of his eye he saw someone else of interest: Praxis.

            Praxis was seated at the table closest to the door. He was facing Cain, but his head was down, reading some files on his tablet. The task looked innocent enough, but some nasty voice in the back of Cain’s mind echoed with paranoia, ruining his vivacious mood.

            Praxis was trying to find a way to contact Abel. Through his Navigator, perhaps. _Ethos_. Cain didn’t want them to be friends, but he knew he had no right to keep Abel from his friend. It would look too suspicious on his part. He needed to remain Abel’s most “trusted and loyal companion,” as Bering said.

Then again, their time together had created a bond Cain never expected. He never fathomed that he could have such a strong relationship with his Navigator. He trusted him. The previous day’s events were a testament to that. Even last night was… Different. More so than when Abel was shaking in the Reliant’s cockpit, or when he drew Cain’s blood during their first time. Abel was becoming more than a possession.

The demeanor on Cain’s face sharpened into a menacing glare as his eyes landed on Praxis again.

If anyone was going to have Abel, it would be Cain. He would make sure that no amount of past reports or rumors could become a wedge to drive him and Abel apart.

“Watch him, Myshonok.” mumbled Cain.

            Deimos met Cain’s eyes and gave a curt nod. He didn’t need to look behind himself to know who Cain was referring to. As far as he knew, there was only one thorn in his friend’s side.

“My Navigator would never face a ‘Teron head on.”            said a young Fighter named, Melos.

“He’d probably get scared and piss himself.” replied Metis as a couple of Fighters chortled. “I bet he already has nightmares.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“You saying you wet your pants, Kale?”

“No.”

“I bet you wake up screaming for your mommy.”

“I only wake up screaming for _your_ mommy, Metis - and I think your Navigator has nightmares because he’s seen you naked one too many times.”

            The group of Fighter’s laughed. Cain almost choked on his food amongst their chuckles. Deimos simply ignored the bustle around him. Their antics never concerned him anyhow.

“I’ve never been scared of a ‘Teron.”

“No one but the Navigators are scared of them.”

“Yeah?”

“Abel wasn’t scared.” commented Perot.

“Well, no shit.”

I bet Cain was scared.” whispered Metis.

“Nu-huh.”

“Cain. Were you scared?”

            Cain briefly looked up from his meal, but continued eating as he gave his reply.

“’Course I was scared.” he said. “That’s why I shot the bastard out of the sky.”

            There was a brief pause. That was the last answer they had expected from Cain.

“That makes sense.” said Perot. “How else can you get your survival instincts going? Heck, I bet you weren’t expecting Abel to do that, huh?”

“I wasn’t expecting him to do a lot of things, but he tends to surprise me now and again.” said Cain with a shrug. In reality, he was doing his best to downplay a threatening blush that tingled at his cheek’s pores.

“You know, I think I would be pretty unnerved if Sponde took on a ‘Teron like that.” spoke Kale. “He’s so inexperienced compared to Abel.”

“Hmm. Mine too.” agreed another burly brute.

“You must really trust your Navigator, huh, Cain?”

            Cain met Perot’s eyes with seeming disinterest.

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Well… What makes him so special?” asked Perot as he took a seat beside Deimos. “It’s already been half a month since you two were paired. Are you going to keep this one?”

“Hmph. That depends on Abel and if he can keep up.” said Cain with a smirk. “I already warned him that I’d leave him behind if he slacked off.”

“One warning’s all it took, huh?”

“What about the scar?” piped Metis. “I bet he didn’t like that.” The knife in his hand gleamed as he cleaned under his nails.

“Why do you wanna know about that?” answered Cain.

            Cain was skeptical of where the conversation was going. He couldn’t bring himself to fully trust Metis. Metis was notorious for sleeping with Navigators, after asking for the respective Fighter’s permission. Still, he gave him the benefit of the doubt and convinced himself that Metis valued his third leg.

            Deimos, in the meantime, stopped eating and peered at the other Fighters with Cain. They appeared to be unsure how to continue the conversation from there.

“Ah, come on, Cain.” spoke Perot. “Some info about Abel is well over due. Our Navigators can’t shut up about him, and you’ve hardly said anything.”

            The other Fighter’s nodded and hummed in agreement.

“I mean, how is he compared to your previous Navs?”

            There was a brief pause while Cain thought.

“He’s… everything the Commanders want him to be.”

            At once, the Fighter’s surrounding Cain burst into a chorus of disappointment. Cain could only smirk as he continued to eat.

“Come on, Cain. Abel could very well be our next Captain or something. You gotta give us some more information than that.” argued Melos.

“ _Melos_.” Kale warned.

“Or at least lift those rules you have in place.”

            A small hush fell over their corner of the mess.

            Cain stopped eating to look at the young man. He was an inch taller than Deimos, with black hair in no particular style. He was obviously one of the younger recruits, as his Fighter suit made his lack of muscles more obvious. Cain saw him earlier out of the corner of his eye; a small, little thing amongst a horde of burly men. He had kept his head down but would always make an appointment to lift his chin and meet the eyes of his older colleagues. Ultimately, this would cause him to look down again, since those around him were more than a head taller.

“No.” answered Cain. “We’re not looking for a promotion, so the rules will stay in place.”

“Yeah, but-. Is that really what Abel wants?”

            Cain scowled. The individuals surrounding Cain grew just as tense – but with nervousness. All eyes were focused on the aggravated Cain that no one noticed Abel walking into the mess.

            Automatically, Abel’s body moved to grab a tray of food, but he stopped when he saw Ethos seated alone. He quickly tapped him on his shoulder, and then sat down as he looked away. The two laughed and then struck up a conversation as if Abel’s presence had not caused a ripple of excitement to pass through the Navigators.

            Meanwhile, the air around Cain’s small group of lunch mates continued to grow strained. Two bulky Fighters even moved in to keep Melos from bolting.

“Told you to shut up, man.” said Kale.

“W-Wait! No one has heard, here? Seriously?”

“Heard what?” spoke Cain as he moved to other side of the table to sit beside Deimos.

            Deimos, in the meantime, had pulled out his knife and was flipping it open and closed as he maintained a steady glance at Melos. He also chose this time to lean ever so slightly into Cain’s personal space so as to get a scent of his musk.

“About the Lieutenants. They’re looking for a replacement or something.”

            Suddenly, two ‘pops’ came from the Navigator’s side of the mess, followed by cheers and clapping. Some people were even chanting Abel’s name. Cain and the other fighters stopped to watch the commotion, but it was short lived as Abel motioned for everyone to stop applauding him. The Navigators had surrounded Abel and were patting him on the back just as the Fighters had done to Cain. Only a handful of Navigators remained in their seats with a surly countenance.

            A smile almost escaped Cain’s stern visage as he watched Abel, until he realized that everyone was watching his Navigator. He snapped his fingers in everyone’s faces to bring their attention back to him.

“I didn’t say the rules were lifted.”

            Immediately, the small group of Fighters turned to Cain. Those who were smaller than him kept their heads bowed, but maintained a defiant look as their eyes met.

“Melos,” Cain placed a boot on Melos’ bench and leaned forward. “where did you hear about the Lieutenants?”

“Last night, from the Senior Officers.”

“The Senior Officers are always talking about replacing the Lieutenants.”

“No. They were discussing how they were _looking_ for a replacement… Okay, maybe not an _exact_ replacement, but for someone else to take charge. Look, I don’t know all the details, but-.”

“Ah! So you don’t know for certain.”

“Well- yeah. This was something they brought up in the Medical Bay, last night. I was half asleep! But I think Keel-.”

“ _I_ think you were-. Wait. Go back to Keeler.”

“I think Lieutenant Keeler is sick. Encke’s Senior Officers were down there muttering about it.”

            Cain paused for a moment. He did recall that Keeler had an old ailment, but the issue was reported to have been dealt with. Cain looked back at Deimos for some silent input.

            The little Fighter had stopped twirling his knife. Apparently, the information had caught his interest, too - but he didn’t know whether it was true.

            He raised an eyebrow at Cain as if to say he would check out the information.

“Nothing’s set in stone?” asked Cain, turning back to Melos.

“… It was just a thought.”

            Cain leaned closer and grabbed the scruff of Melos’ collar.

“Well, next time you have that thought… Keep it to yourself!”

            Melos was rudely shoved into his seat. He thought he would receive more from the Reliant, but Cain was already returning to his original seat.

“Get out of here before I kick your ass, Melos.”

            With a quick nod, Melos left the band of Fighters. Initially, he had joined the rowdy bunch in order to congratulate Cain - and possibly befriend him; but he didn’t know just how dangerous he could be.

‘Note to self:’ thought Melos. ‘Never talk about Abel again.’

            Melos was about to exit the mess when Abel rose and began to exit, as well. Without a whim, Melos turned away from the pale navigator and walked towards the nearest table. His eyes landed on Praxis.

“Hey! Praxis. It’s been awhile.”

“Melos.” greeted Praxis. “Making new friends?” He thrusted his chin in the direction of the tiny faction surrounding Cain.

“Sore about that, huh?”

“Cain did nothing special. Abel’s the one with the talent.”

“I’ll, uh. Agree to disagree with you on that.”

            Melos quickly looked over his shoulder to see if Abel was gone. He then chanced a glance at Cain.

“How’s life with the new Nav? I heard he was new.”

            Praxis turned off his tablet.

“Why are you over here, Melos?”

“Just checking in. We haven’t talked since you got your new partner.”

“Right, but I’m on Cain’s number one hit list.”

“You are?... I haven’t heard anything.”

He looked back towards Cain. His eyes met Deimos.

“If you want to be one of Cain’s cronies, I wouldn’t recommend conversing with me.”

“Aw… Cain doesn’t scare me.”

“Then why were you avoiding Abel?”

“I-I wasn’t avoiding him.”

            Praxis rolled his eyes and motioned for Melos to sit.

            Unsure at first, Melos peeked at Deimos, who was still eyeing him, but he chose to sit in the end.

“Look, Melos, Cain is just a bully.” Praxis said as he leaned over the table. “You can talk to Abel. He’s a really nice guy.”

“You talked to Abel?!”

            Praxis nodded as he motioned for Melos to be quiet.

“And got away with it?”

“For the most part. I’m still being threatened.”

“Gees, I’m sorry to hear that. Cain always seemed like such a cool guy to hang out with - except when you bring up his Navigator. Then he gets defensive and… ugly.”

            Praxis hummed in agreement as he picked up his tablet.

“Learned the hard way?”

“Yeah… It just seems so unfair that we can’t talk to someone who’s very likely to become the next team leader.”

“What? The Reliant’s getting promoted?”

“W-Well, maybe. I don’t know for certain. I just heard a couple of Senior Officers talking about it while in the Medical Bay, last night. I think it was because Keel-.”

            Melos began to trip over his words as two familiar reflections appeared on Praxis’ tablet. His muscles tensed and he looked Praxis straight in the eye, and he began to talk louder and more animated.

“-ler was sick of using the flight cables. They were too heavy and would tear up his gloves, so he started suggesting the liquid crystal ropes.”

            Praxis looked at Melos with a perplexed expression.

“Melos, what are you-.”

            Cain and Deimos glided by, both making eye contact with Praxis. Simultaneously, Melos continued talking with more fervor.

“They’re extremely expensive, but the military can afford it. Plus, with the supplies from medical, we could easily make our own – though, they probably won’t like that at all.”

“Right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so - I'm going to be honest. It's going to be awhile before I upload another chapter. That's not to say that I haven't started working on it. Oh, no, far from it. I'm just about done with the third chapter, however, my schedule is going to be tight for the next couple of weeks. I have a flash mob to manage, a show opening in less than two weeks, and a playwriting competition; so I'm going to write when I can. Again, I will think in French-sized portions in the future. 
> 
> Now, if you will excuse me, a warm bed with a fuzzy cat in it are awaiting. Hasta luego. ;-)


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Sorry this took so long! Here's another ch. for you to enjoy!

       Abel called the lift to his floor. It was already traveling in his direction, so he knew it would be there soon. He wanted to get his meeting with Cook over and done with so he could have breakfast. It wasn’t fair he had to miss out on a meal while Cain enjoyed his morning with his friends. He thought the Commander would have the decency to let him relax before calling him back to work, or had asked Cain to attend. Abel was sure Cain never had to attend early meetings and it would have made him feel better if his Fighter suffered along with him.

      ‘I wonder if Cain’s sore.’ he mindless thought with a blush, but he pulled back his smile just as the lift signaled its arrival. The doors opened to release two Fighters while three remained inside. Abel stepped in, undaunted by their presence, but he still couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling of being out of place. “Central, please.” he said to the Fighter closest to the lift handle.

      The gruff figure grunted in reply causing Abel to crease his brow and almost curl his lip in anger. All the Fighters did that! He noticed their pattern of interaction three days after boarding the Sleipnir. No one ever talked to him. They kept their heads bowed, fists clenched, and the occasional jaw tightened. Whether they saw him as a figure above themselves was a mystery to Abel. He was doubtful they feared him. He never presented himself as narcissistically as Phobos, so he knew he wasn’t perceived as a jerk; however, he also knew that the Fighters had a tendency to view the Navigators as upper class snobs – and Abel couldn’t blame them. Many Navigators pulled the ‘class card’ out when in an argument with their Fighter, but in his case, this simply wasn’t true. He always acted humbly and well-mannered around the Fighters, so they had no ground to rule him a narcissist. Ergo, he was left to wonder whether Cain had done something to stir the pot. It would explain all the injuries he acquired after their arrival. Still, he was doubtful Cain had an influence on all the Fighters aboard the ship. He just couldn’t.

 _Fsss._ The lift doors closed. Now the simplest minute turned into the longest hour.

      Abel stood there, staring at the smudged reflections of their bodies on the clean walls. The Fighters kept to their practice. They stared at everything but Abel… except for one.

      Instinctively, the tiny hairs on the back of Abel’s neck stood at attention, reaching towards the walls as if to lift his head. He picked his head up, mind and body suddenly becoming aware of the foreign eyes perusal. He chanced a glance, but whoever was looking at him was directly behind him! He realized he would have to wait it out, but two floors later he came up with an idea.

      Sighing, Abel leaned against the wall in an act of boredom. He even folded his arms over his chest to complete the look. Then, peering through his bangs he could get a look at the Fighter, who was currently looking at the other side of the lift.

      He was about Cain’s height, though a couple of inches shorter and less muscular. His jet black hair was nicely combed back giving him a sophisticated look. He had a thin and lean frame which could have made him look weak, but the meat on his bones helped to fill out his suit and give him a stronger appearance. All in all, he looked like any other Fighter on the ship; and yet, despite his conventional Fighter features, Abel thought he looked familiar.

Their eyes suddenly met.

 _‘Shit!’_ Abel quickly looked away.

      He did not want to look like he was checking someone out!... But he could have sworn he’d seen those eyes somewhere before. Light grey – but not too light. He was of colonial descent – which goes without saying – but where had he seen him before? In the halls? He chanced another look.

 _‘Crap!’_ He was still looking and the other Fighters had noticed, too! Yet, Abel’s brain continued to swear upon Mother’s wisdom that he had seen that man before – that he knew him.

“Level 01: Central Command.” projected the lift. Abel could not have been more happier to leave a lift full of Fighters.

      He took two strides out of the compartment… and then he remembered.

“Shakespeare?”

A head shot out from the lift. “Juliet?”

      A bright smile claimed Abel’s face as he turned around to meet an equally charming smile on the Fighter. His merriment only grew as the Fighter came to him with open arms.

“Oh, my god.” Abel breathed. The Fighter remained speechless as he hugged Abel. The remaining men in the lift looked on in horrific disbelief. “Oh, my god.”

“I can’t believe it’s you!” exclaimed the Fighter.

“I never thought I’d see you again. How are you?”

"I-I’m good. I’m… Oh, my god. So this is-… You’re a Navigator!”

Abel chuckled. “And you’re a Fighter!”

“I know, right?! No one saw this happening!”

“Your dad must be pissed.”

“Hmph, _my_ dad?”

“Ssss, let’s not talk about that.”

“Heh, heh. Sorry. Anyway, what’s your task name?”

“Abel.”

The Fighter’s smile faltered. “You’re Abel?”

“Yeah.”

“Well shit... I mean, of course you are, you’re… you.”

Abel laughed again. “Thank you. I’m taking that as a compliment. What’s your name?”

“Sirius.” “Seriousl-.”

“Don’t. I get enough of that from those two jokers, over there.”

      Having been brought into the conversation, one of the dumbstruck Fighters decided to speak up.

“Sirius, man, you shouldn-.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” he said with a wave of his hand. “I know this cat.”

“Vik- I mean, Sirius! We need to catch up.” peeped Abel.

“I agree! When are you free?”

“Uh… It’s hard to say.”

“Hey, it’s okay. Just PM me when you have some free time.”

“Sure. What’s your PM number?” Abel questioned as he took out his tablet.

“Dipper – Sirius: 8-6-7-5… 3-0-.”

“Say “nine” and I end you.”

“Ha, ha, ha, ha! But it’s a classic, E- I mean, Abel.”

“It’s a dead classic. Let it rest in peace. Now, what’s your number?”

      Sirius snorted. “1-8-4-3-5-6-5.” He briefly paused to let Abel write down the numbers. “At least it’s not as old as Hamlet.”

“Leave Hamlet out of this.”

      A wide grin appeared on Sirius’ face. “You can keep your crazy Hamlet. I’m just saying it was written over 1000 years ago.”

“Yes, but Hamlet wasn’t crazy. He was faking it the whole time. He said so in Act I – and we’ve had the conversation before!”

“Well, I beg to differ. Hamlet was off his rocker.”

An obnoxious and loud beep sounded from the lift.

“Sirius, we can’t hold it any longer.” said one of the Fighters from the lift.

“What? Oh.” Sirius looked back at Abel, who was giving him a sympathetic smile.

“We’ll continue this later.”

“You know I’m right.” replied Sirius with a hug.

“Hardly.” Abel returned.

“See you around, _Abel_.” said Sirius as he gave his friend a final smirk and entered the lift. Abel just grinned and waved in return.

“Bye, Sirius.”

      The lift doors closed as Abel turned to join the light stream of Navigators down the hall. A joyful smile remained on his face as he moved to meet his Superior deeper within Central.

 

“Grr… Where did he go?”

      Deimos peeked at a frustrated Cain from the corner of his eye. Abel had left earlier than expected and neither of them knew where to. They searched in various places around the ship, all within a reasonable distance of the mess hall, but they still couldn’t find him. As a result, they decided to wait for the Navigator in one of the main halls leading to the mess. Cain believed that Abel would return, but Deimos had his doubts. If he wasn’t using the bathroom, then he probably went to work early; yet, Cain claimed that they had planned to meet for sim training. Whatever the case, Deimos did not want to go searching for the blonde.

      Huffing with a mixture of annoyance and boredom, Cain continued to pace through the corridor. “Hngh… He wasn’t at the Loading Bay… Not at the Dorm… He didn’t have a meeting this early, did he?” Cain asked, as if Deimos knew the answer. “Maybe that’s why he’s not responding to any of my PM.”

      Finally, Cain decided to lean against the wall with Deimos. Impatience had won over him. “Guh! I wish I knew where he went… Damn, fucking Abel – not telling me where he’s going.”

      Grunting out his annoyance, the Fighter crossed his arms over his chest, not even bothering to apologize for bumping Deimos on the arm. He stared down the hall at the lift, as if it was both his problem and solution. Many Fighters and Navigators were circulating through it. Abel could come walking through those doors at any moment; but every time they parted, he never appeared.

“Oh! Good morning, Cain, Deimos.”

      Confused, Cain looked at the entrance to the mess to find a boy with curly locks standing there. He had a small smile on his face but it began to fade once he realized the men he was talking to did not recognize him.

“Uh… hi?” Cain replied. He quickly looked at Deimos to ask whether he was supposed to know the individual; however, his companion’s attention was already on the Navigator.

      Deimos nodded his head in reply to the Navigator’s salutation. Cain would eventually put the puzzle together.

After studying Cain’s confused face, the Navigator finally asked, “You don’t remember me, do you?” “Eh, you all look related.” “Um, thanks? Anyway, I’m Ethos, from the Tiberius.”

 _‘Greeeat.’_ thought Cain.

“Abel’s friend.”

_‘Shit.’_

“Are you looking for him, or something?... You look a little lost.”

“Tch, no. We’re just shooting the breeze.” Cain replied cockily, leaning back against the wall and acting suave.

“Oh, okay… Well, Abel probably didn’t mention it to you, but Cook called him in for a surprise meeting.”

“What? When?”

“Just a couple of minutes ago.”

“Well, that would explain why he’s ignoring me.”

Deimos smiled while Ethos lightly chuckled. “Glad I could help.”

“Hmph. Yeah, whatever.” said Cain, half-heartedly waving as he walked towards the lift. There was no use loitering in the hall anymore.

“See you around… Deimos.”

      The little Fighter turned to look at the Navigator with a curious glace, but eventually went back to following Cain. He silently wondered if that Navigator was as easy as he looked.

 

“Abel, good to see you.” Cook greeted with a handshake. “Have a seat.”

      As Abel expected the Commanders did have better privileges. There was no noisy mess for them to dine in, but Cook’s private office a floor above Central. His desk was cleared, all the computer devices that would have been on his desk were stashed within the desk, recharging. Now, the only things upon the polished table were two trays of porridge, toast, jelly, and two sausage links. If Abel were to sum up the moment, he would say he was impressed. Normally, the higher ranking officers wouldn’t be fed so much, but considering the amount of work Cook and Bering took on, Abel couldn’t blame them for indulging. He would be more surprised if they actually had time for lunch.

“I apologize for calling you so early,” Cook breathed as he took his seat. “but this matter needs urgent attention.”

“Yes, sir. It’s not a problem, sir.” Abel replied with a straight back.

“There’s no need to be so formal this morning, Abel.” Relax… unbutton your shirt collar if you like.”

      Abel’s eyes widened, but he remained formal nonetheless. The air in the room was far too chilly for him, and he never felt fully relaxed around Cook. He thought it might be because Cook’s a commander, and he, a lowly Navigator; but there was some other feeling knowing away at his innards. Something that always made him feel uneasy around Cook. “Oh, yes… Thank you, sir.” he finally replied.

      Letting his eyes wander over Abel a moment longer, Cook took to studying Abel’s body language. He was still very tense, and the little blush that painted his cheeks wasn’t good enough. With a silent “huff” he sat down in his seat, eyes shifting between Abel and his food.

      Abel quickly followed in the like, eating his porridge in a well-mannered process. Unfortunately, as he forced himself to eat so meticulously, he recalled having similar meals with his father.

_“Ethan, sit up straight. Don’t slouch over your food. You’re not some colonial dog eating scraps.”_

      The echo of the distant memory caused Abel to look up at Cook. The Commander was calmly eating his porridge and meat, not even looking at Abel or judging him. He was about to look away when their eyes met. Just a quick glance and his body was tense again – a faint tint of embarrassment finding its way through his cheeks pores.

      Abel looked down, scolding himself for staring – yet another lesson his father had drilled into him. Perhaps that’s he always felt uncomfortable around Cook. He reminded him too much of his father’s standards.

      Meanwhile, Cook was pleased to find that he had made Abel blush so easily. He thought this breakfast might prove more successful than he had thought.

“Abel,” spoke Cook. “Before we get to the main discussion, I would first off like to know how your partnership with your fighter is. I understand he’s your first.”

“Yes, he is.”

“Is there anything you would like to report?”

      Abel placed his utensils on the napkin, thinking of the best way to summarize his hard earned relationship with Cain. He fumbled with his hands in his lap before he gave his reply. “I’ll admit that we had a… bumpy start. We didn’t receive each other well – but we managed to um… come to a better understanding of one another.”

      Cook slightly nodded his head in understanding. His facial expression never said whether he was content with the answer or not. “So you have no complaints whatsoever?”

“None, sir.”

      Cook felt skeptical of Abel’s answer, but he kept his comments to himself. Abel truly was different from the Reliant’s previous Navigators. He could easily remember a time when those chosen Navigators would run to him for solace and a good night’s rest, but it seemed Cain had finally found a way of keeping Abel under lock and key. The Commander would be lying if he denied that he had a seething hatred for the Fighter, but he also wasn’t blind to the fact that the project was a success. He also felt that once the plan was revealed to Abel, he would come running to him. Therefore, he let the issue with Cain – though very unwillingly – rest.

      Grinning, Cook continued to eat. “Very well, let’s move on to the engine… You said there was a malfunction… Tell me, what happened?”

      Abel quickly swallowed his food in order to reply. “There was a bright light from the engine. The ship was lined up for Cain and then this light appeared. I… I couldn’t see so I told Cain to take the shot. Then I maneuvered the ship out of the way and… that was it.”

Cook raised his brow in interest. “You couldn’t see?”

      “Um, no.” Abel replied. He tried not to show it, but fear of being reprimanded was evident in his voice. He knew he should have been looking at the orb no matter what. He could have killed Cain!

“Impressive.” said the Commander. “And the data?... How did it look?”

“I-I’m planning on looking at that today. When Cain and I were previously working on the engine, the data was normal. I mean, the ships speed and durability has improved, but there was nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Excellent. I expect you to get to work on that this morning.”

“Yes, sir.” Abel replied, sitting up straighter in his chair.

“Abel, I told you there was no need formalities. You may relax.”

“Oh, yes. Excuse me.”

      Cook glared at the formal apology. He wanted Abel to be comfortable around him, but so far his attempts were failing.

      While Cook was mulling over his own thoughts, Abel quickly went back to his food. He could tell the Commander was not pleased. He hoped it wouldn’t hurt his chances of gaining a promotion, so he thought to level with Cook on the engine.

“T-There is one thing I would like to report about the data for the engine, si-.”

“…Go on.”

“There’s one piece of the engine I’m unable to examine. Its function is completely unknown to me. I’ve tried to access its information, but…” Abel trialed off, looking at his Commander with a silent question. “I don’t have the proper authorization.”

      Cook put down his utensils and looked Abel straight in the eye. “I know which piece of the engine you’re referring to; however, even I do not have the proper authorization to divulge that information to you. You’ll have to work around it. All you need to know is that it is a required piece.”

      Regrettably, Abel tore his gaze away from Cook. He knew he shouldn’t have asked that question. If the Commander had wanted him to know, he would have given him access a long time ago.

      Feeling more uncomfortable than ever, he stirred his cinnamon porridge, wishing he could leave. He only took a couple of bites when he thought the Commander was looking his way.

      “Hmm.” Cook hummed, quickly swallowing his food. Abel looked up at his throaty exclamation. “There is another question I wanted to ask you… Have you ever felt emotionally strained while working on the engine?”

“Um, no.”

“What about yesterday? Did you feel anything before the light?”

      Abel folded his hands on the table and creased his brow. He was unsure of to answer the unusual question. “Um… fear? I was afraid we might get hit… and yet, I was also confident that we would win. I trust Cain’s abilities. I just feel like it’s also my duty to… protect him – and everyone else… That’s what I felt.”

      “Interesting.” remarked Cook. Abel’s testament verified what Bering to be true. This was good news indeed, but Cain was still in his way. “This is exactly what I was hoping to hear.”

 _‘Why?’_ pondered Abel, yet he didn’t dare voice his thought.

      Glancing over, Cook noticed Abel’s confused face. “There’s nothing to worry about, Abel.” he comforted. “I was merely asking on behalf of medical. You’ve been working hard and limiting your sleep with late night shifts. We thought you might have been ill.”

“Oh! Well, I’ve been feeling fine, sir.”

“Good.” Cook replied, returning his attention back to his meal. Abel simply nodded and did the same.

      They continued to eat in Cook’s quiet office. The only available sound was their utensils tapping against the bowl, but it wasn’t long before they were interrupted. A heralding notification was coming from Cook’s hidden tablet.

      Cook raised a curious brow while Abel watched, taking tentative and quiet bites of his food. He opened the compartment that hid his device. “I apologize, Abel, but I must take this.” he said after seeing who the message was from. “Please, finish your meal.” he said, pushing his chair in and leaving his mostly empty plate behind. “I will see you later this evening.”

“Yes. Thank you for inviting me to join you, Commander.” Abel replied with a bow of his head.

      Cook was still displeased with Abel’s formal address, but he nodded nonetheless. He had another annoying situation to attend to.

      Once Cook left, his assistant walked in to clear the tray. Abel only watched out of the corner of his eye, lightly picking at his food, but once the door closed and the room was empty, he sighed in relief. He let his neck hang and carry his torso down, closer to the bowl. Slouching never felt so good – and he could enjoy his breakfast! He ate two, large spoonfuls of the porridge, shortly followed by a generous amount of the sausage and toast.

He couldn’t wait to tell Cain about his breakfast.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick Notice!  
> I would like to dedicate this chapter to NoiraKai and DokidokiBaka! This is their super-special-awesome-(belated)-birthday present! Yah! :D (omg, I'm way too cheery today).
> 
> Have a nice day, everyone - and happy belated birthday Noira and Doki!

_“Where the fuck are you?”_

_“Good morning, Cain.”_

_“Where the fuck-”_ he started typing, but another message had just arrived

_“I was in a meeting with Cook. What's wrong?”_

Clearing his previous message, Cain quickly began to type _. “Nothing’s wrong. You're late for simulation training.”_

            Abel quickly looked at the new PM from Cain before stepping out of the lift. He couldn't help but roll his eyes at it, though, since he could hear Cain’s attitude from there. _“Be patient. I'm almost there.”_ He replied. He had two more lifts to take before he would be in the training room, and he didn't feel like walking and typing PMs at the same time. Cain would just have to-

"Be patient. I'm almost there?!" Cain read. "That still doesn't answer my question."

            Deimos let out a huff for Cain. He knew he was riled and perturbed, but he was also annoyed, too. He knew what Cain would ask of him next.

“Deimos, go and meet him two floors up. He's more than likely going to take this lift.” Cain said, motioning to the silver lift at the end of the hall. “You better get going while that blood thirsty- hmph. Never mind.”

            The aforementioned lift had just opened to release a small throng of Navigators and Fighters. Within those ranks was Phobos. He spotted Cain and Deimos almost instantly. The two men knew the first thing that would come out his mouth would be a shriek of his Fighter’s name.

“Deimos! The helll have you been? Have you been here the whole time? I took my time thinking I was doing you a favor, but here you are, making me look bad.”

“I don't think anyone needs to help you with that.” spoke Cain. A couple of passing team mates chuckled along with him, though, the Navigators did little to hide their amusement.

“Tch.” Photos glared. “At least I don't have a reputation like yours, Cain. By the way, where's Abel? He stood you up? Why don’t you upgrade to a better-.”

“Gees, you sure talk a lot when your boyfriend’s not here. I thought he was supposed to fuck you hoarse?”

Someone at the far end of the hall laughed loudly. Phobos’ glare only intensified.

“I don't have to put up with this!” He screamed, making his way around Cain. “You're just some uncultured, uncivilized, colonial... garbage heap!”

            Cain let out a loud laugh in response. “You wanna try that again, Phobos? It sounded like you were struggling.” The irked navigator remained silent as he stomped down the hall, his fighter following. “No? Alright, maybe next time!”

            A Cheshire grin awoke on Cain’s face as he watched the Equinox disappear around the corner. He was grateful he decided to choose Abel as his Navigator and not his satanic peer. He wouldn't have been able to stand working with another narcissistic asshole. As for the time being, he was also grateful that none of the guards came to see what Phobos was yelling about. Cain was sure one of the senior officers would.

            Already bored from Deimos’ absence, Cain thought it best to take a cat nap against the wall; however a single glance from a senior officer made him reconsider. Therefore, he opted to pulling out a cigarette instead. He was just about to light the stick when the lift arrived with another wave of teams. This time, Abel was among their number.

“Thanks for letting me about your date, princess.” yelled Cain.

            Abel gave him a disapproving glare. He wasn't about to let the curious and wide eyed stares from his peers scare him. He had long since realized that Cain enjoyed embarrassing him in front if the other Navigators. It was some sort of game to his Fighter, and quite frankly, Cain enjoyed it when he would banter back; however, his meeting with Cook left him feeling odd and not as playful.

“Sorry if Cook didn't let you know, but he needed to see me for an urgent meeting.”

“Well, excuse me, miss popular. Did you at least eat breakfast?”

“Yes. We had our meeting over breakfast.”

“He served you breakfast?!”

            A smirk that clearly asked if Cain was jealous danced on Abel’s lips. He was definitely in the mood to play with him now.

“Hmph… Spoiled little brat.”

“Don't go getting _your_ panties in a twist, Cain." Abel threw back.

"Who said I wore any?"

"Ew, Cain, that's disgusting!"

"What? Going commando is sexy."

"Who are you trying to impress?"

There was a slight delay in Cain’s reply as he looked at Abel’s blushing cheeks. Throwing his arms behind his head he replied, "No one in particular."

Abel merely glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, then shook his head. "Let's get the sims over and done with. There's some stuff I want to look at from yesterday."

"Tch. Fine, whatever. " Cain childishly replied, marching on ahead of Abel.

            Irked, Abel's eye twitched - an interesting habit his body had picked up. Abel was not surprised, though, especially when he decided to write his Fighter down as toxic. One could only stand to be around radiation for so long before they succumbed to radiation poisoning. As such, Abel's eye twitch was such an example of being exposed to Cain for an unrecommend period.

            The blonde Navigator was about to march after his Fighter, but a notification from his tablet drew his attention. He stepped to the side of the hallway so he wouldn't be in anyone's way, then checked his tablet.

_“Hey, hey! Guess who? I ran into a friend of yours on the way from a debriefing.  I hope you don't mind, but he gave me your PM number since I didn't grab it from you earlier. So, what do you say to grabbing lunch?”_   
_Dipper-  Sirius_

Smiling, Abel gave a short reply so as not to keep Cain waiting.

_Sim training now. See you at 1300 hours.  
Reliant-  Abel_

 

            It was barely 1000 hours and Ethos still felt ashamed of his lack of courage to face Praxis with a ‘firm’ countenance. He was right _there_. He could have – _should have_ – said something to him when they left the mess. They practically walked side-by-side, but Praxis didn’t seem to notice. He probably hadn’t known that Ethos was there, either, and Ethos just let him go. To simply put it, no amount of correcting computer diagnostics could keep his mind from mulling over his relationship with Praxis… or lack thereof. For it felt like his entire morning had been spent thinking about his Fighter.

‘If only I were like Abel.’ Ethos thought solemnly. ‘Praxis would be overjoyed at that.’

With a bored expression, he corrected one last program for the Sleipnir’s computer system and sent it off with a flick of his wrist.

‘Maybe I should contact him and see when he’s free. He should allow me five minutes at the least.’

            He pulled up another damaged system, tiredly looking over the tedious repairs he would have to make. There seemed to be more corrupted software than before, then again, he was tired so he wasn’t surprised that the workload seemed heavier than usual.

Ethos sighed as he relayed between typing and then tapping on the monitor. ‘But when should I contact him? I don’t want to be a pest.’

With a burst of energy, Ethos hurriedly typed out the correct coding before angrily slamming the “Enter” button.

‘ _Abel_ would know what to do.’

            He looked up at the software coding, studying his corrections for any mistakes. Had he even made a dent?

            His sliver of anger slowly began to subside. He knew he shouldn’t take it out on Abel. Abel didn’t start problems, he fixed them.

“I am so _sick_ of Abel. I swear to Mother, I’m going to be physically _sick_.”

“So you’ve heard it, too?”

            Startled, Ethos quickly peered over the edge of his work station to the area below. Others around him did the same, but once they noticed that it was only Porthos and Phobos, they returned to their work, rolling their eyes. Ethos, on the other hand, continued to follow them as they made their way to their seats.

“Heard it? I think I _dreamed_ about it. That’s all I hear, in and out of the lab.”

“You know, you shouldn’t talk about Abel like that.” Opsis spoke up, timidly.

“Piss off! You’re not in this conversation!”

Opsis quickly scampered back to his station. He was not about to pick a fight with someone five years his senior.

“Great. Now he has the child genius under his wing.” Phobos growled.

“It’ll end soon. He can’t hold back on everyone forever.”

“You’re right. I’m going to personally see to it this afternoon.”

“You have a meeting with Keeler?”

“Yes. I told him it was an emergency and he became very interested.”

Porthos smirked. “What about your other plan?”

“I have a few more things to fix and then I’m sending it.” replied Phobos, a knowing smile gracing his lips.

‘Sending it?’ Ethos wondered, as he watched the two Navigators slowly ease into their work. ‘I don’t like this. I should tell-.”

            Ethos stomped back to his seat. Once more, anger and resentment were roaring through his brain, and prickling the tips of his fingers. He was eager to get back to work and take out his energy on the corrupted files.

‘No. I can handle this myself. If there’s one thing the Alliance teaches you, it’s how to stand on your own. I can handle this. Abel doesn’t need any more stress on his shoulders. He just- He needs to take a break - and so does Praxis! He’s probably tired of working all day. Yeah, I bet that’s why he’s never around. Gosh, he must work really hard… Yes! See? They don’t need me and my problems. They just…’

“They all need to get out of my head.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview:  
> "So... what happened after I left?"
> 
> "Uh..." Sirius let out a breath while searching the ceiling for the best answer. "Do you really wanna know?"
> 
> "Yes." Abel replied, despite his curiosity being tainted with hesitancy. 
> 
> "Well, alright, then... I'm not going to beat around the bush, mind you... You were disowned on national TV - excuse me, _international_ TV."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, it's so good to take a break from writing my other works. Seriously, I was about to burn them all with fire. Anyway, how have y'all been doing? How were the conventions? Ready to freeze your asses off this winter?

      Just as the time promised, numerous Navigators and Fighters were weaving their way through the halls and into the Mess. Among the small line coming from the Loading Bay were Cain and Abel. Both were mentally drained from the work they completed on the Reliant’s engine, but Cain was more physically exhausted than mentally. Abel, on the other hand, was beginning to feel a buzz of excitement at the thought of having lunch with an old friend. His only dilemma, though, was the excuse he had to give Cain. His Fighter had made a delightful habit of eating lunch with him. In truth, Abel didn’t mind the extra company, he loved to see Cain converse and befriend his coworkers, but he was unsure how the man would react to Sirius. Aside from Deimos, Sirius would be Abel’s first ‘Fighter friend’ who Cain knew about. Still, Abel had the underlying feeling that Cain would not be pleased with Sirius. He may even be jealous of the fact that they were childhood friends.

      As they stepped into the Mess, Abel scanned the room for Sirius… but he didn’t see him. The thought that the Fighter was in another Mess Hall began to surface in his mind and stress him out. There wasn’t a good excuse he could give Cain that would convince him to dine in another Mess. This was the Hall that they always dined in.

“I’m gonna go grab some borscht.” said Cain while stretching his arms overhead. “Do you want some?”

Snapped out of his distraction, Abel replied, “Um… yeah. I’ll have a bit of yours, but I’m still going to eat whatever they’re serving us.”

“Gees, you brain dead? I was asking if you wanted your own bowl, not some of mine.” Cain grumbled as he went to get a tray.

      Abel watched him as he left, and then he let his eyes wonder over the Fighters again – just in case he missed Sirius. Again, he could not find him within the black sea of hair and suits.

“Hi, Abel.”

      Turning around, Abel found that Ethos had just entered the Mess.

“Oh, hi, Ethos.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Y-Yeah, I’m just a little tired from work.”

“Well, that’s understandable.” Ethos replied as he and Abel moved to grab trays. “You and Cain are always working on that engine. Are you guys almost done with it?”

“Yes, we are actually. We were just running a few minor checks today.”

“That’s great! We’re definitely going to win this battle then.”

“Ah! Well… thanks for the vote of confidence.” Abel replied sitting down.

“Abel, if there’s anyone less likely to die, it’s your team.” Abel stared at Ethos. “Sorry, I guess that was inappropriate.” Ethos chuckled. “I meant that in the best way.”

“Oh, no. I knew what you meant. I just wasn’t sure how to respond.”

      Both the Navigators chortled before they were interrupted by Abel’s tablet. It was an incoming message marked with the same importance as the morning’s previous alert.

“I am so sorry about this.” Abel said as he opened the message.

“Oh, no need to apologize.”

Abel gave Ethos a grateful smile as he read the message,

_“Meet me on the 4 th floor in room SC2009._

_Dipper – Sirius”_

“Is it Cook again?” questioned Ethos.

“Um, yeah. It is.” Abel replied.

“He seems impatient.”

“Well, we are almost in the Baten Kaitos System, so I can’t blame him. I just wish he wouldn’t do this during my free time.”

“Want me to tell Cain?”

“Yes, please – and thank you. I really owe you one, Ethos.”

“Don’t mention it. It’s nothing really.”

“Alright, then. I’ll see you at dinner… _Hopefully_.”

      Hurriedly, Abel stowed his food away in several containers, then left the Mess in a hasty retreat with a brown paper bag clutched in his fist. He didn’t bother to look back for Cain or to tell him where he was going. He knew too well that Cain would want to follow him or – as Cain said – “escort him” to his destination. The thought of being escorted around the ship like a princess, latched onto the arm of a knight in shining armor, made Abel roll his eyes in an exaggerated manner.

‘I’ll be damned if Cain still calls me a princess after this mission.’

 

“Finally.” Encke heaved as he closed the door to his office.

      He had half an hour to eat lunch, review the evening’s training schedule, and look at the files of who was coming from and going to the Brig. That assignment in particular was of great interest to him, and one he always enjoyed completing during lunch. The stories of what the Fighters had done to get sent down south were always entertaining, but there were times where their actions were so cruel that Encke had to wonder why they were even coming back at all.

      Closing the file drawer with his knee, Encke grabbed his tray of food with one hand and his reading material in the other. He then marched to his desk, threw the files down behind him, and took a long awaited seat in his chair; letting go of another exhausted sigh as he did so.

“Man, oh, man.” he grumbled, not even bothering to rub the weary haze from his eyes.

      His chair groaned deeply as Encke swiveled around to face his desk. He took two large mouthfuls of the soup followed by a chunk of bread. He breathed deeply as he enjoyed his meal, letting his eyes close with every flavor he savored.

      In the back of his mind, he was awed by how much he had grown to love the food the Alliance supplied. At first, it tasted dry and similar to cardboard at times. Then the food began to taste salty and heavy with carbs and fiber; but now, everything tasted as good as if he were back home. Maybe it was because the Alliance was considered home, now. On the other hand, the change in food may have had something to with his higher position; but as far as Encke knew, the Commanders were the only ones who received special meals – especially on a war ship with limited supplies. In any case, he was happy to be alive and to have a warm meal to eat. The latter was actually what made the moment feel like a spa retreat.

      Once more, he sighed heavily, letting his muscles and nerves relax with the soup. He only had half a day left to go. Inch by inch, life’s a cinch; yard by yard, life is –

_Knock Knock Knock_

      Encke looked quizzically at the door. He thought he made it perfectly clear that he was on break during his lunch hour.

“What?” he boomed at the door. His question was answered by the entering visitor.

“Knock, knock.” said Keeler, stepping into his Fighter’s office. He made sure to close the door behind him.

Encke was short with his reply. “What?”

“Oh! Who needled you today?”

“No one. What?”

      Encke turned to grab the Brig Files from behind him. By shuffling through the reports, he hoped Keeler would get the hint that he was busy, but his partner marched up to his desk all the same. Even the smile on his face remained unremoved.

“We need to go see Bering.” Keeler stated so matter-of-factly.

“What for?”

“For our choice of Captain.”

“Aw, shit. That’s right.”

“No worries. We still have time.” said Keeler while he walked behind his Fighter’s desk. “What’cha reading? Are those the Brig Files?” he asked, peering over Encke’s shoulder. He didn’t even bother to wait for a reply as he grabbed a couple from off the desk. “These are so interesting to read. I wish I could sort through these.”

“Here. Then help me.”

“I didn’t mean it literally.” Keeler said sheepishly.

      The Lieutenants spent the next few minutes reading the Brig Files and unadmittingly, enjoying each other’s silent company. Encke continued to eat his lunch while Keeler filtered through file after file, and then organizing them according to Encke’s preference. Eventually, the Lieutenant Fighter thought it appropriate to being up their previous discussion again.

“So did you think about another Captain at all?”

Keeler huffed as he set down the file he was reading. “No, not as much as I would have liked to.”

“Hmm. Then I suppose we do need the Commander’s input.”

“… I would like to choose Phobos, but his Fighter isn’t leadership material. Whoever has this position will get promoted and I don’t want to waist a good learning opportunity.”

“That’s why I’m not looking at it that way. They’re not going to get promoted immediately. This is simply a question of who can get the job done, and getting it done right with few casualties.”

“That’s also why I choose the Reliant. From day one, Abel has been saving lives. No one has shown as much heart as him.”

“And that’s also why I don’t want to choose them. It’s all Abel. He’s already working on the hybrid engine and I believe he doesn’t need the extra stress.”

“He can handle it.”

“And his Fighter? Cain is… childish, unpredictable. There’s no telling what he would do with a Captain’s power.”

“He’s not causing any trouble now.”

“That’s because of me, Keeler. I’ve been keeping the lid on his cage.”

“Then perhaps he hasn’t had enough room to grow.”

Encke gave Keeler a straightforward look. His Navigator was too good at holding his own in an argument.

“Let’s go talk to Bering, then, since we keep dancing in a circle.”

 

      This hallway, like so many of the hallways near the Fighter’s Level, was eerily empty. The walls were no longer a brilliant white, and the overhead lights were completely dimmed as if the Sleipnir were trying to reserve its electrical energy. Then again, it was more than likely due to the lack of visitors to those levels that the lights were hardly in use. No matter the reason, Abel was always given a foreboding chill within the lower levels – except when he was with Cain.

      Abel stopped and turned to the door on his right. It was a service closet labeled with the digits: 2009.

      After verifying that it was the correct door on his tablet, he proceeded to knock. However, as he began to, the door slid open.

“Ah! There you are!” cried Sirius. “I was about to run down the hall to see if you were lost.”

      Abel rolled his eyes as he stepped into the room.

      For a storage closet, the room appeared to be more akin to a storage unit. It was even bigger than his dorm room. Of course, Abel concluded this was due to the adjacent closet being combined with the one they were in.

      The entire room was filled with boxes, stacked from tall to short along the walls. The only area left vacant was the center where four boxes were stacked in twos to form a table. Two extra boxes were present to be used as chairs.

“How did you find this place?” questioned Abel.

“Well, prior to being placed in the Northern Side, I was scheduled to work the janitorial shifts for three days. It was to help me convert to working when I used to sleep. Plus, it gave the Commanders some time to search for my new Navigator.”

“What happened to your previous one?”

“He got sick – _really_ sick. I’m not entirely sure what happened, but I think he was poisoned.”

“Poisoned?”

“Yes.” nodded Sirius as he and Abel took a seat at the make-shift table. “We were doing very well in our rankings – we surpassed a lot of our seniors – and one day I noticed that one of those teams had become jealous. They were threatening us. We took it all as hot air, and next thing I know, I’m told that my Navigator is puking his guts out. I asked Medical if he was poisoned but all they said was that his stomach didn’t agree with the food.”

“Oh, gosh. I’m so sorry.”

      With his mouth full of food, Sirius simply waved his hand as if to say, “Don’t worry about it.”

“But… Why did they move you if he was only sick?”

“Well, this end’s been losing a lot of Fighters recently, so Lieutenant Encke moved me to this end of the ship.”

“And how do you like it so far?” Abel asked, as he began to consume his lunch.

“I’m working a lot more than I did in the South Side, but I don’t mind. Although, my chances of dying _are_ higher… You guys get hit by a lot more Colterons during this time, you know that?”

Abel lightly chuckled. “I never realized – but you should do fine.”

      Sirius lightly nodded his head in agreement, still feeling so-so about his heightened chances of dying.

“… Do you want to go home?” questioned Abel.

Sirius paused to look at Abel. He then leaned back to prepare for a long conversation. “I was wondering when you would bring that up.”

“Well, we haven’t spoken this privately for a long time.”

“Yeah… Yeah, we’ve been out of touch, haven’t we?... Yeah, I guess I would go home after a term or two - but what do you wanna know?” Sirius asked with a cheeky grin.

Abel fidgeted. “… What happened after I left? Do you know?”

"Uh..." Sirius let out a breath while searching the ceiling for the best answer. "Do you really wanna know?"

"Yes." Abel replied, despite his curiosity being tainted with hesitancy.

"Well, alright, then... I'm not going to beat around the bush, mind you... You were disowned on national TV - excuse me, _intergalatical_ TV."

      The news slapped Abel in the face. The incredulous look that he shook onto his face told Sirius that he was surprised, and yet, he couldn’t believe it. Disownment was a possibility he was expecting, but not in such a public manner.

“What?”

Sirius shrugged his shoulders in a nonchalant manner. “Your parents disowned you. You stopped showing up to your father’s press conferences, so the press put two and two together.”

“What did he say exactly?”

“Mmm… He said that he didn’t have a son within the Alliance. That no son of his would join the Alliance – and he kept repeating that he didn’t have a son so… The underlying message was pretty clear.”

Abel let out a heavy sigh. “Wow, that’s just… _like_ him.”

“Sorry if that ruined your entire day.”

“No, I… I think I always knew that he would do that, but I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“Right. He is your father, after all – your only one – so you two should cherish each other.”

“But still: on intergalactical TV?”

“Yeah – it exploded on the Colonies. It really helped fuel funding for the Alliance. You’re like the undercover poster child for it all.”

“Ugh, I wasn’t hoping to be. It wasn’t my intention to defame my father or his political career.”

“We know it wasn’t, but think of it as poetic justice for disowning you.”

“Did my mother say anything?”

Sirius’ face contorted into a grimace. “No. She just let-“

“Let it happen… Yeah, she’s… She’s never stood up to my father – in the sense that she’s defending me. She would just pull me aside and ask me to reconsider.”

“Aw, man, I’m sorry, Ethan. Ah! Sorry, didn’t mean to let that-“

Abel waved the apology off. “Don’t worry about it, Viktor.” he said smiling.

Sirius returned the smile. “So, in other news, how are things with your Fighter?”

Abel blushed but quickly bit his lip as if to remind himself not to. “Things are good. He’s pretty easy to get along with.”

“What?!”

“Once you get to know him! He’s just rough around the edges is all.”

“I was about to say…”

“I-I know. He doesn’t have the best reputation.”

“People on the South Side make him out to sound like a monster.”

“That’s… sad to hear. I mean, Cain’s the best Fighter. Why would-“

“He gave you that scar, didn’t he?”

“Huh?”

“The lip scare.” spoke Sirius, pointing to the area on his lip. “He said he would mark his Navigator with a scar. Then he had the balls to say that he didn’t want any of us – the Fighters, specifically – to talk, touch, or look at you. Doing so is… certain death, apparently.” Sirius took a quick moment to peruse Abel’s face. “You didn’t know about that, did you?” he said, pointing at his gaping face.

“No, I…”Abel paused to recall his first memories of Cain. It was nearly half a month ago that his Fighter gave him his scar, and when he had, there were some words he said that made Abel’s eyes widen with realization. “He mentioned it once, when he gave me my scare – but I didn’t think it was to that extent.”

Humming, Sirius nodded his head in understanding.

“Is that why you had us meet here?”

“Yeah, that, and I wanted us to catch up on our private lives.”

“Right, but are we always going to have to meet up like th-“

      A banging at the metal door interrupted them. Both Abel and Sirius jumped up from their seats.

“Shit. I think it’s Cain.” whispered a fidgeting Sirius.

“How did he find us?”

“I don’t know.”

      More banging came from the door.

“Hide.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be up in November!
> 
> Preview:  
> “Did he ditch you again, Ethos?”
> 
> “Hey, now! Abel’s a hard worker, Phobos. He’s in a meeting with Cook.” said Tauri, the Taurus’ Navigator. He had overheard Abel’s and Ethos’ conversation and he knew from history that Phobos was only there to pick a fight.


	6. Chapter 6

“Alright, then. I’ll see you at dinner… _Hopefully_.” Abel said as he gathered his food into a brown paper bag.

“Bye, Abel.” Ethos waved, watching his friend rush out of the Mess Hall.

            He would be lying if he didn’t say that he was extremely disappointed to see him leave again. Abel was the only other Navigator he really enjoyed talking to. He was easy to get along with, to say the least, but Ethos also had to admit that he was getting a little tired of Abel. His feelings of jealousy and wanting to be with his friend were conflicting, and every time he saw him he felt as if he needed to show him respect. He was also starting to believe that the other Navigators were beginning to feel the same way too. In short, Ethos felt rather relieved that Abel was called in for another meeting.

“Hey, Blondy.” Cain spoke as he and Deimos strutted up to the Navigator’s table. “Where’s my Navigator.”

“Oh! Uh. He left.”

Cain’s eyebrows twitched. “I can see that. Where to?”

“Cook called him in for another meeting.”

“Aw, hell. Again?” cursed Cain while setting his tray down beside Deimos’. “They weren’t supposed to have another meeting until this evening.”

“Well, I guess Cook couldn’t wait.”

“Hmm.” Cain looked at Deimos from the side.

            While Abel and his friends weren’t ones to tell him lies, he knew something wasn’t right about the situation. Abel specifically told him that Cook wanted the new diagnostics that evening, not at noon. That’s why Abel wasn’t as stressed as he usually was with a deadline. Perhaps Cook was taking more than an interest in the hybrid engine? It was a doubtful and horrendous thought Cain didn’t want to ponder over any longer, so he quickly conveyed his fears into Deimos’ eyes.

            His little mouse nodded in understanding and went to grab two paper bags and containers.

“Oh! You two don’t have to leave.” Ethos offered, feeling as if he had offended the Fighters. “You can still sit here if you want.”

“Hmph. No thanks.” Cain smirked. “I think Deimos and I will dine out today. We don’t get to hang out a lot.”

“Oh. Okay.” said Ethos as he watched the Fighters pack up their meals, along with an extra bowl of borscht. “If Abel comes back early, I’ll let him know you stepped out.”

            Making his exit, Cain waved to Ethos in thanks, though doubting that Abel would come back at all. He could tell his Navigator was up to something, and Deimos was drawn into that suspicion as well. There was an itching in both men to find out the truth of the matter, and a strong desire to seek out a fight.

            As Ethos watched the Fighters leave, he noticed that a bigger frown had found a home on his face. He forced himself to straighten up and made a conscious effort to stop looking miserable… but he felt too sorry for himself not to. Two Fighters had just come up to him and conversed, and Praxis hadn’t bothered to see why. To Ethos, it appeared as if Praxis could care less if another Fighter took an interest in him. He didn’t seem to care if someone approached him. What if someone wanted to hurt him? Would Praxis care then?

            Looking across the Hall at his Fighter, Ethos quickly came to the conclusion that Praxis refused to notice him. Even as they walked out of the Mess that morning, Praxis made no appoint to look to his right where Ethos was standing. He simply absorbed himself with his tablet, during and after breakfast. In fact, he was doing it again. He was only staring at his tablet – his tablet! Ethos recalled that he had sent several messages that morning. He was looking at it now, and yet… still no reply.

            Ethos forlornly looked at his meal. He felt doomed to an explosive death.

“Did he ditch you again, Ethos?”

            Ethos turned to see Phobos and Porthos standing at the head of the table. The trays in their hands still did nothing to make them look less menacing. They stood there with their critical eyes, just waiting for Ethos to make a comeback.

“Hey, now!” cried Tauri, the Taurus’ Navigator. He had overheard Abel’s and Ethos’ conversation, and he knew from history that Phobos was only there to pick a fight. “Abel’s a hard worker, Phobos. He’s in a meeting with Cook.”

“Oh, so that’s why I have to wait to speak with my superiors.”

“How typical.” commented Porthos.

“If you worked half as hard as Abel, then maybe the superiors would want to talk to you.” Sponde replied from beside Tauri.

“Abel and I are equally ranked. It’s just that the Commander enjoys using him as a guinea pig more.”

“Especially when it comes to that new cloaking device, right?”

“Hmm? Oh, that’s right - but they’re not interested in hearing about that.” Phobos whispered. “Let’s go, Phobos. My tray is getting heavy.”

            The two Navigators were about to walk down the aisle when Thebe stopped them. He was sitting at the next table with his back to them, but he had heard every word. “What was that about a cloaking device?” he asked, peering from under his devilock.

Phobos gazed at the Navigators around him. “None of you heard?... He didn’t tell you?”

            One by one, the Navigators looked at each other for an answer, but they all shook their head. The answer was unanimous.

“Well… I thought Abel would have told you all by now, but…” Phobos looked to Porthos and then went to set his tray down beside Ethos. “Do you mind?” he asked Tauri, ignoring Ethos.

            Tauri was about to glare in response, but thought better of it when he noticed that the others were already making room. Ethos was the only one who looked to him for reassurance, so he nodded his head and made space for Ethos to slide down.

“Thank you.” Phobos said as he took his seat with Phobos in front of him. He took a sip of his drink then asked, “So, where to begin?”

“The cloaking device.” Tauri spoke. “Abel’s testing it out, so what?”

“It works.” Phobos glared, displeased that Tauri was going to make the conversation difficult for him.

“Well, then, that’s good.” Ethos finally spoke up. “Our chances of survival will be higher.”

“But we’re not going to have it on _our_ ships.” Phobos said.

“What?”

“That’s impossible.”

“Well,” Thebe said. “when you think about it, it is possible.”

“Thebe.” Tauri scolded.

“Don’t. Don’t shoot me just yet. Just hear me out.” Thebe turned around in his seat to look at his friends. “We aren’t that far from the Baten Kaitos System. When are we going to have time to install the upgraded engines? There are only so many techies. They can get around – what? Twenty ships a day?”

“And that’s _if_ nothing goes wrong during the installment.” added Porthos.

“Right.”

“How do you know that the cloaking device works?” Sponde popped in. “Perhaps these meetings are needed to go over improvements.”

“Improvements or not, nothing that Abel has done to the Reliant is going to be in our ships.” Phobos cried. “The Reliant is more agile and durable now. Those are improvements that have worked, so why haven’t we received these updates for our ships?”

            None of the Navigators could give a plausible explanation, not even Tauri. True, Abel was busy, but so much time had passed that there wasn’t an adequate reason for the lack of communication. All the Navigators knew it as well, but all were too afraid to admit it.

They didn’t want the betrayal to be true.

 

            The doors to Commander Bering’s office opened smoothly. There was nothing spectacular within the organized room, nor was it nearly as spacious as Commander Cook’s office. However, as with all the Fighters, there was something special deep within.

            The windows inside the office were of an unimpressive shape, but through the triple paned glass was a magnificent cluster of stars. They gleamed and shined a spectacular array of colors, lighting up the galaxy with a sight only space dwellers could appreciate. The light from each nebula and star filtered into the blandly decorated room, giving Bering’s office a special flare that Cook’s lacked.

            Upon entering the room, Keeler had to give a slight pause of respect to the galaxy’s display of beauty. It was so rare that he stepped into Bering’s office – or into a Fighting Commander’s officer in general. That privilege was normally left to Encke, which would explain why he didn’t break stride. The wanna-be church windows were nothing new to him.

“Lieutenants, have you come to a decision?” the Commander questioned.

“No, sir. We would like your opinion.” Encke smoothly replied. “Lieutenant Keeler and I have a disagreement over our desired teams.”

“I’ve nominated the Reliant, Commander.” Keeler continued. “However, my partner has brought to my attention his concerns surrounding the Reliant’s Fighter. He views him as an immature case.”

“That being said, I think the Equinox is more than capable of being Captain – and Keeler has no valid argument against my decision.”

“Actually-“ Keeler began, but Bering took the opportunity to cut him off.

“Thank you, Lieutenants.” he said with a raised hand. “I believe both candidates are an excellent choice, however, Commander Cook has had his eyes on the Reliant for some time. Needless to say, the majority always wins.”

            Both lieutenants stood a little straighter, albeit Encke did so to display what dignity he had left.

“Thank you for your time, Lieutenants.” spoke Bering. “You are dismissed.”

“Sir,” Encke said. “May I speak with you?”

“You may.” Bering nodded.

            Seeing that he was no longer needed, Keeler gave a final salute to the Commander and exited. He wanted to chance a glare at Encke, but thought better of it. Keeler already knew that Encke would not win the argument. What Cook decided always occurred.

            The office doors shut and the two Fighters were left to talk more openly.

“You still have reservations about Cain.” Bering said, making a statement rather than a question.

“I understand he has some special privileges, but he is taking advantage of the fact that I’ve been looking the other way for him. I believe he needs to learn that his actions have consequences.”

“Is that so? And what has he been doing that you feel the need to punish him?”

“He has been getting into too many brawls. He either causes them or jumps into them, either way, I believe some time in the Brig would straighten him up.”

“I understand your concerns, Lieutenant Encke, but I don’t agree that locking our best Fighter up would be the best course of action. Perhaps leaving him to work KP for an hour or two would suffice. After all, we don’t want to impede the Reliant, especially when we may need them at any moment.”

“Yes, sir.” Encke replied, none too pleased with the Commander’s response.

“I will have a talk with Cain to help clean up his act. If he continues to give you trouble after, then send him where he can put his hands to use. Do you understand, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Dismissed, then.”

 

 

            A ferocious banging on the storage room door startled Abel and Sirius out of their seats. While their hearts drummed in their chests, they took a few seconds to stare at the door, silently wondering if it would open.

“Shit, I think it’s Cain.” whispered a fidgeting Sirius.

“How did he find us?”

“I don’t know.”

            The pounding on the metal door continued to reverberate around the storage closet as it rose in intensity.

“Hide.” Sirius ushered, grabbing Abel’s arm then running to gather their food. They needed to hide everything before the door opened.

            Meanwhile, on the other side of the door, two maintenance workers stood questioning the door’s refusal to open. A stack of boxes on a cart was between them. The larger, more gordy-looking of the two, was banging away at the metal as if he were trying to dent it. The younger, skinnier one could only grimace at the cacophony assaulting his ears.

“Dammit!” the worker cussed. “What the hell did you do, Vicks?”

“I didn’t do anything! The code’s just not working!”

“Yeah, that’s what you said last time.”

“I swear to you,” Vicks began, while his partner pulled out a small computer chip key from his pocket. “I have been following the codes _carefully_ this time around.”

“Uh, huh.” the other replied, trying to manually open the door. After entering the appropriate code, the closet opened. “Well, would you look at that.”

“Oh.” Vicks replied, standing dumfounded as his partner walked into the closet.

            Vicks pushed the cart of boxes into the room. Once he was inside, he couldn’t help but take a big whiff of the flavorful yet spicy scent of food within in the room - and neither could his partner.

“Were you eating in here, Vicks?”

“What? No.”

“What about the others?”

“No. We all eat in the kitchen.”

“Hmm. Funny, it smells like borscht in here.” the man said, removing the boxes from the cart. “And what’s with those boxes, there? Someone must have been eating in here.”

            Vicks considered the boxes in the center of the room. “Hmm. Well, maybe one of the other workers was eating here. I mean, it’s not like we have all the time in the world to relax. He was probably just overworked at the time.”

“I don’t care!” proclaimed Vick’s partner, slamming a ‘Fragile’ box down. “The smell’s going to stink up the whole room in a matter of days!”

            Having no reply to the comment, Vicks simply shrugged his shoulders as he continued about his business - also making sure to return the curious arrangement of boxes to their rightful place.

            Once the storage unit was properly organized, the plump custodian went to open the door so that Vicks could push the cart through. “We’ll come back later with an air freshener. Then, we’ll have a talk with the crew.” he said, wrinkling his nose a final time at the spicy aroma. “Are you sure you don’t know who was in here?”

“I swear to you, I know nothing.” confessed a scandalized Vicks.

“Uh, huh. It sounded, to me, like you knew something earlier”

“I don’t know anything! It was just a suggestion!”

            Finally, the door closed and Sirius and Abel stood up from their hiding places.

“Woah! That was close.” Sirius chuckled through a mouthful of food.

“Really?”

“What? I was hungry.”

“Get over here.”

            To Abel’s misfortune and Sirius’ amusement, the custodians had accidentally trapped Abel behind a series of stacked boxes. While Abel was at an average height, he wasn’t about to risk climbing over the fragile boxes. The last thing he wanted was for those custodians to come back in order to inspect a _crash_ they heard from within. So, he opted to have Sirius remove the boxes for him, and while he waited, he took the time to continue eating his meal – he was too afraid to eat while the other men were in the room.

“What _are_ you eating?” Sirius grunted as he unstacked the boxes.

“A salad.” Abel answered smartly.

            Sirius’ eye twitched.

“You used to like them!”

“Yeah, but that was _before_ I joined the Alliance. All that fine dining did not prepare me for this. I don’t even think I could eat a salad, now. They’ve gotten me so used to their testosterone induced food, that I can’t imagine eating anything like baklava again.”

            Shaking his head, Abel clicked his tongue. “You’re daddy’s going to be so disappointed.”

            Sirius raised an eyebrow, wanting to challenge that remark. Instead, he kept his lips pressed together and took a seat on one of the sturdier units. Abel stepped over a final box and joined him.

“Are you going to leave after this mission, Viktor?”

            The Fighter nodded his head. “Yeah, I promised my father I would return. He didn’t like the idea of me leaving, at first, but then he thought it might be good for his campaign. I could come back and explain how important funding is to the Alliance, and how many causalities there are when the Republicans win. - stuff like that. Oh! And promote equal pay for the Fighters and better veteran care.”

“Sounds like you’re going to wage an all-out war on my dad.”

“Well, kind of, yeah.”

Abel sighed. “I don’t blame you. He needs to be put in his place.”

“Woah! I’m sensing some daddy issues.” Sirius said, while ghosting a hand around Abel’s body, pretending to feel the emotional vibes. Abel just laughed.

“And I’m sensing you have some issues with Cain. I mean, you almost jumped out of your suit, there.”

“I am not scared of Cain, I am just wary of him.”

“ _Wary_ is just another definition for being cautious. In other words, you’re scared.”

“And you’re not? He just gave you a fucking scar.”

            Abel stabbed his salad with his fork. “I know how it looks. I’ve heard all the comments before. I’ve heard it since day one. _Cain has a reputation. Cain is a rabid dog. He needs to be tamed._ But he doesn’t act like that - at least not twenty-four seven. I mean, I don’t know how he acts around the Fighters, but – to me – he’s so different. Yeah, I’ve seen his bad side, and I’m sure that’s the side everyone’s seen, but… I don’t know how to explain it. He’s just so different to me. He’s gotten better.”

“So, you’re not mad at him, at all, for giving you that scar?”

“Not really, no; but if he picks a fight with you, then I’m going to be fucking pissed.”

“Sounds like you already are.” Sirius mumbled.

            “… I’m sorry.” Abel said after stabbing his salad a few more times. “I’m just frustrated. That’s all anyone has to say about Cain. They never mention his achievements or his skills. It’s not like I’m operating that Starfighter by myself! I mean, christ, he’s so amazing.” Sirius looked up at this. “The whole reason I didn’t get a reassignment was because he is _that_ talented. He’s the best Fighter on this ship. I could never imagine getting another one… I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

            The speculations within Sirius’s head began to arise. “Ethan… Do you, perhaps, _like_ Cain?”

            Unsettled by the embarrassing discovery, Abel fidgeted in his seat. He recalled the letter that he sent – back when he and Sirius would communicate inter-galactically – explaining how he found men more attractive than women. Viktor had asked if he had a girlfriend, out of generally curiosity, and Ethan answered truthfully. Since then, their friendship was strengthened as Viktor did not divulge the information to his father, who would surely have used it to shame his opponent’s image. Now, Abel was hoping that Sirius would continue to keep the secret hidden, as it would mean his and Cain’s separation.

“… Wow… I mean, I can’t wrap my head around it.”

            Abel shrugged and continued to eat the left over pieces of lettuce.

“So does that mean Cain’s…”

“Well, yeah. I mean, he’s never said otherwise.”

“Hmph. I never took him for the type.” Sirius said, pondering the sweeter side of Cain only Abel had seen.

Again, Abel just shrugged his shoulders, none too startled by Cain’s affectionate side.

“So, do you two do it?”

“Alright, I think it’s time I head back.”

“What?! Come on, Ethan!”

“No.”

“So what if you like bad boys? I won’t tell.”

“Wow. Okay.”

            Despite the blush staining his face, Abel managed to gather his trash nonchalantly while Sirius giggled in delight.

“I swear, I won’t tell anyone.” the Fighter said, as he and Abel walked out of the closet.

“Mm – hmm.”

“Hey,” he said, stepping in Abel’s path. “I mean it. I’m not going to tell a soul, man.”

“… Thank you.” Abel smiled. “You’re a good friend – one of the few I have, here.”

            Sirius’ face scrunched up in confusion. “You’re kidding me. Mr. Popular doesn’t have any friends?” Abel forced a laugh at the nickname. “Tell ya what, when you have free time, I’m going to introduce my Navigator to you. He’s heard a lot about you and has always wanted to meet you, so let me know when you’re free. Plus, I could probably get on better terms with Cain.”

            Abel snorted. “Yeah, about that… Well, he and I are going to have a long talk about it today, so I’ll keep you posted about that meeting. We could shoot for tomorrow or the day after, ‘cause I don’t want to have anymore secretive lunches.”

“Hahaha! Yeah, Me neither.” Sirius agreed, leading his friend to the nearest elevator.

            While their time together was enjoyable, it was all too brief. For a moment, Abel was reunited with a part of his past that he cherished. He didn’t have to put on a smile or pretend that he wasn’t tired; he could let everything go, show every emotion, and speak his mind. He can do the same around Cain, but there are some days when Abel knows that Cain has his own drama to deal with, and would dislike being his shoulder to cry on. As a result, Abel must carry the weight of his mind, emotions, and tasks on his own shoulders; but with Viktor back in his life, Abel realized that he had another option to destress – and he wasn’t about to let Cain take it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Bout to go through finals, so the next chappy will take a while. ;)  
> Preview:
> 
> Thank god. Ethos thought, seeing Praxis in their room.
> 
> “Hey.”
> 
> “Hmph.”
> 
> “Do you have a minute to talk?”
> 
> “Make it quick, I have training.”
> 
> “… Do you want to be my Fighter, Praxis?... Do you want anyone else to be your Navigator, aside from Abel? I’ll do anything for you.” Ethos pleaded, feeling the need to kneel down before his partner. “I’ll be like Abel if that’s what you want…”


	7. Siete

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I making anyone's eye twitch with the messed up chapter titles? >:3  
> I wish I could dedicate more time to this. T.T I'm not going to stop writing, though! This semester one of my 10 minute plays was produced and I was constantly rewriting it on top of another play. Phew! That was fun - all the shows sold out! Anyway, I'm half-way done with the next chapter, but I'm having to write in bits and pieces at the moment.

            Cain strode into the hangar bay with an angry stride, glad to hear his boots stomping against the metallic floor. It made him feel powerful – look powerful. The Navigators and technicians around him moved out of his way as he pressed forward. They were not sure who he was angry at, but the vile feeling that his tense muscles radiated made them wary of the Fighter.

            Eyes focused on one unseen target, Cain looked up at the Reliant. The Navigator’s hatch was open. He climbed up the steps, eyes still set on the target within. Once he reached the top, he peered down at the man below him. An unpleased scowl was on his face, but it went unnoticed by the blonde haired Navigator.

            “Hey, Cain,” Abel greeted, too busy with the navigational orb to acknowledge Cain’s attitude.

            “Tch. Hiya, Abel. Have a nice lunch with Cook?” he spat.

            “What’s wrong with you?” Abel asked, finally looking up at his Fighter.

            Cain just glared and slid into the cockpit, closing the hatch as he made his way down.

            “Uh! Cain!”

            Cain ignored the protests while Abel attempted to maneuver the screens he was working on out of the way. None of the updates were saved and he didn’t want a touch of an elbow to alter his designs. Of course, Cain wasn’t making the process easy since he was attempting to pin Abel’s arms to chair.

            “Well? How was lunch?” Cain asked once he was sitting comfortably on his knees.

            “It was fine – it was boring! What do you want me to say? It’s not really any of your business.”

            “Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”

            “Because it was an emergency! Cook wanted me there straight away.”

            “Uh-huh.”

            “Cain, why are you upset about this? Why do you have to know where I am-”

            “I haven’t seen you all day.”

            Abel looked thoughtfully at Cain. He could feel a small smile trying to tug on his lips, “So you missed me.”

            “Hell no, I just don’t like you… disappearing on me like that, ok?”

            “I told Ethos where I was going.”

            “That doesn’t cut it.”

            “Cain, I was fine.”

            Cain grabbed Abel’s chin and made him look into his eyes, “Tell me where you’re going next time.”

            Frowning, Abel recalled the information Sirius had just told him. He knew why Cain wanted to know where he was, and he knew that his temperament was the outcome of mounting suspicion, but Abel wasn’t ready to let the truth escape. His Fighter’s already volatile demeanor would only be exacerbated if he mentioned Sirius, and he didn’t want to have a fight. Not only would he lose, but his life-long friend could be hurt, as well; so he kept his peace, despite his own growing frustration. Why should he be up front with Cain when he kept so many secrets from him? To Abel, his silence was justified.

            “Fine. Then tell me where you go in the mornings.”

            “Tch. I go to workout.”

            “ _Uh-huh,_ ” he mimicked.

            “These muscles don’t stay the way they are from lifting machinery, sweetheart.”

            Abel rolled his eyes and tried to sit straighter in his seat. Cain had let go of his arms and was now sitting on his lap with his arms folded. He didn’t look like he was ready to leave, and Abel could only imagine what Cain was really after. Aside from using another Fighter as a punching bag, Abel knew what other activity Cain used to destress. “Cain, can I get back to work?”

            “What do you think?” smirked Cain. His mischievous smirk only grew as he let his fingers dance around Abel’s waist.

            “Cain,” Abel whined. “This has to get done today. Cook wants the results tonight.”

            “The hell? You have another meeting with him?”

            “Yes, we had it planned since this morning.”

            Cain frowned.

            First breakfast, lunch, and now dinner? Cain had thought that the sudden lunch hour meeting with Cook meant that their evening meeting had been canceled. The fact that it wasn’t was concerning to him. His previous Navigators used to meet with Cook twenty-four seven, and that was because they wanted to get away from Cain. He knew that wasn’t the case with Abel. Abel had never run away from him. After last night, Cain knew that Abel would be his Navigator until the end, and Cook could not come between them. At least, not with Abel’s consent, but he was a Commander and there was no way either of them could contend with him. Not unless Bering knew about the issue, and Cain knew where he stood on their relationship. “Then what the hell did you two talk about at lunch?”

            “What I need to get done today.”

            “I thought that’s what breakfast was for?”

            “There was some extra stuff he forgot to mention.”

            “And he couldn’t just message you?”

            “It would have taken too long,” Abel said, defeated. He didn’t know what answer would please Cain, now.

            “… I think Cook’s full of shit.”

            “Cain! He’s a Commander. Show some respect.”

           “Well, why can’t he respect your free time - our time to get _our_ shit done?”

           “Well, you’re here, now. Let’s get to work,” Abel said, managing to push Cain back into the Navigational orb. The Fighter rebounded swiftly. His taught abs pulled him forward and back into Abel’s face. The Navigator leaned back, and Cain took the opportunity to grab Abel’s arms and pin them above his head again, much to Abel’s displeasure. “Dammit, Cain!” he stomped his foot.

           “Little feisty, aren’t we?” Cain said, his toothy grin growing from the struggle.

            His canines were itching to nibble on the smooth flesh beneath Abel’s ear. After their session in the elevator last night, Cain realized that that area was one of Abel’s pleasure spots. Even when they finally made it to the dorm, he continued to harass the flesh there, and make his partner keen. He could lick and breathe into Abel’s ear, and ultimately send him to another level of bliss. The recollection of it all made Cain grow heavy with need, and he could not tear his eyes away from that spot. “I think you need to relax a bit, Abel,” he said, inching closer to Abel’s left ear.

            “Seriously, Cain? Come on, I-“

            Abel tried to wiggle out from under Cain, but doing so caused their nether regions to meet. When his groin tapped Cain’s already willing ass, his partner released the most delicious sound into his ear. Then, he felt a wet tongue press into the soft tissue under his ear, followed by moist lips surrounding the ear lobe. The Fighter let a low hum travel through his lips and down Abel’s neck, trying to get him to let the configurations go for the evening; but Abel was still perturbed by his rules. He tried to protest again.

            “Cain, I’m not in the mood.”

            The Fighter laughed into Abel’s neck, then bit the flesh he was sucking on as punishment. “So stressed,” Cain whispered. “I want it again… Just like last night.”

            Abel’s mouth hung open.

            Cain leaned back and smirked at his partner’s expression. Before any more words were said, he licked Abel’s tongue, which prompted him to quickly close his mouth. He chuckled at how speechless he made Abel, and kissed his forehead. Then he pulled out a small can of lube from his back pocket, and lightly set it on top of Abel’s laptop.

            “That better not-“

            “It won’t.”

            “… I still don’t have a lot of time,” Abel said, firmly massaging Cain’s inner thighs and lower back.

            Cain smirked in reply, “I figured as much.” He licked Abel’s scar and then straightened himself onto his knees. He then pressed himself into Abel’s chest, enjoying the pressure on his dick.

            Abel bit his lip and ran his fingers up to Cain’s buttocks. While his Fighter unfastened his belt, Abel took to playing with his ass through the fabric. He received three groans in response to his ministrations, and each sound of approval made him grasp Cain harder. Soon, they found themselves moving in a tight rhythm: Cain would tentatively press his tender bulge into his Navigator’s chest, while Abel would pull him forward by the ass. His Fighter was letting him take control again, and he loved the endless options of pleasuring his partner.

            “Fuck,” Cain breathed, moving to undo his pants, but Abel stopped him.

            “Nu-huh. Hands on the seat,” Cain gaped at Abel. “My cockpit, my rules.”

            Intrigued by the command, Cain followed the instructions and even spread out his knees to the edge of the seat. It was his silent challenge to the blonde. He wanted to see how far he would go - just how much he could make him moan; so he took it a step further and closed his eyes, trusting Abel with the pleasurable task.

            Mesmerized by the hefty bulge in Cain’s pants, Abel continued to massage Cain’s upper hamstrings. He wanted to get another sound out of the Fighter, but looking up, he seemed to be enjoying the massage instead. Humored, Abel finally undid Cain’s pants and slid them down as far as they would go. He received a sigh in response, but it wasn’t the moan he was looking for.

            Cain’s cock twitched at the feeling of cool air while Abel quickly undid his pants. Next, he dipped his fingers into the lube and stroked it onto his penis. With another dip, he applied the transparent cream between Cain’s cheeks, and kneaded it into his hole. This time, the Fighter’s breaths came in heavy puffs.

            “Abel, I-“ Cain gasped as a knuckle slipped passed his tight ring of muscle.

            This prompted Abel to make a fist and run his knuckles up and down along Cain’s hole, while his other hand fondled the Fighter’s sack.

            “I-I think I’m good from last night.”

            “Are you sure?”

            “Yeah. Just get it in already.”

            A small shiver ran along Cain’s spine as Abel kissed his abs. Slowly, he lowered himself onto his Navigator’s cock, keeping his hands on the chair. The tip slipped easily past his entrance, but as he continued to seat himself on Abel’s length, the action began to sting. “ _Mph_.”

            “Are you okay?” Abel asked, running his hand along Cain’s taught back.

            “Tch. Yeah,” huffed Cain, as he picked himself back up and tried again.

            “I think we should-“

            Abel tried to stop his partner from potentially hurting himself, but Cain managed to fully sheath him on the next try. His mouth hung open from the exquisite pleasure he was feeling. Cain was _very_ tight, and in the back of his mind he worried if he might have hurt him, but for the moment his brain was solely concentrating on one thing.

            “Cain,” he groaned.

            “J-Just move,” Cain gritted into Abel’s ear.

            “Heh. You’re on top,” Abel replied, kissing the Fighter’s collar bone.

            A sound escaped Cain’s lips, then. It was a mixture between a growl and a moan as he lifted himself up and then back down onto Abel. He wasn’t getting progressively faster, and his thighs were quivering, so Abel leaned back and met Cain as he came down. This made his muscles quiver all the more.

            “C-Can you handle it?” Abel questioned. A throaty groan was his response, so the next time Cain lowered himself, he picked up the tempo and held the man’s hips in place. “I said, can you handle it?”

            “Ooooh, _blyat,_ ” the Fighter growled, fighting against his pants fabric to spread his legs out more. Cain’s gasps of enjoyment soon turned into little moans, prompted by the quick ruts from below. The slick feeling of Abel slipping in and out between his cheeks was bearable, but the blonde’s tip was just shy of his prostate, and _that_ was driving him insane.

            Tired of his cock slapping against his stomach, Cain reached down to relieve the heavy muscles of its stress, but Abel roughly pushed the hand away.

            “Hands on the chair, Cain.”

            “Fuck, Abel.”

            “Hands on the chair,” he repeated.

            The Fighter did as he was told, pressing his hips further onto the Navigator’s cock. He wanted Abel to hit that spot.

            Reaching between their legs, Abel smoothed his fingertips over Cain’s perineum until he felt trickles of lubricant that seeped from his hole. He scooped as much of the substance as he could into his hand before going to stroke Cain’s erection. The man was already shaking above him, and once he began to rub his organ in a rhythmical manner, he finally released a deep, drawn out moan. Abel’s eyes widened at the sound, and he picked up the pace, ignoring the burning in his thighs.

            “Oh, my god, Cain,” Abel gasped, but there was no reply from his Fighter. He had leaned forward to hide his moans in the seat, which only caused Abel to slow down his tempo and press harder into his partner. He wanted to hear him scream. “Fucking come for me, Cain.”

Hissing, Cain leaned back to get thrust into at a better angle. He cautiously moved his hands back to find a fixed piece of equipment that wouldn’t rotate on him. As soon as he found a good purchase, he went back to meeting Abel’s thrusts and biting his lips to prevent them from being heard.

            “ _Mmf… Ngh! AH! Ah_ \- _A_ \- Abel…” Cain’s body twitched from the proximity of Abel’s cock to his erogenous zone. “I-I’m gonna come… _Ugh!_ Go faster.”

            Holding onto Cain’s hips, Abel held his breath and furiously pounded into Cain’s body. Within a few seconds he was gasping for air, but he would do nothing to relax his fast pace.

            “O-Oh shit,” gasped Cain, moving his hands to the side of the walls. “ _Oh. Oh! Ah! AH! AAAAHH!_ ”

The Fighter’s rectum spasmed in an uncontrollable manner, and his hips twitched in a failed attempted to escape the thickening organ below. Abel, meanwhile, could only hold onto Cain’s torso as gravity bound them together and while his own body convulsed from the pleasure. They remained united until the tension eased out in sighs through their swollen lips.

            “Oh, my god,” Abel sighed, leaning his head back against the seat. He heaved another content sigh when Cain maneuvered his hips backwards so he could slip out.

            “Fuck, sweetheart,” Cain whispered, leaning in to share a kiss.

            Enjoying the moment of peace, neither men made an attempt to move - except to plant small kisses on the others lips. A flashing light on Abel’s screen, signifying that it was about to shut down, was the only thing that brought their attention back to reality.

            “Mmgh. I still have work to do…”

            “Good luck with that.”

            Stupefied, Abel blankly watched Cain as he drew his pants back up. “You’re not helping?”

            “Psh. No.”

            “But you said-“

            “I think you misheard my complaint,” Cain replied, smirking as he opened the hatch and climbed out.

            “Cain, that’s not fair!” Abel cried, following his Fighter until his head was out of the cockpit. He still needed to zip up his pants.

            “It’s not fair that you keep ditching me at meal time,” spoke Cain while climbing down the ladder.

            “Well, sorry, _princess_. I didn’t know you needed me there twenty-four-seven. Want me to ask Ethos to baby feed you?”

            Cain quirked an eyebrow at Abel and then flipped him off before walking out of the loading bay. He did chuckle to himself as he walked away, but Abel couldn’t tell. He simply remained glaring with his own smirk from his perch in the cockpit.

~~~~~

 

            Myriad thoughts – all prodigious in matter – endlessly cycled through Ethos’ mind. He couldn’t concentrate on his work any longer, and while he and his Fighter were scheduled to report to sim training, he knew the man wouldn’t show. Time and time again, Praxis would bow out before or during their first few runs of the program. It appeared he was struggling with his own thoughts, but Ethos knew what the true problem was. It was Abel. His own friend was hindering his team without even realizing it. Of course, the Reliant could not be held accountable, but a pesky voice within said someone had to take the blame.

            Entering their dorm room, Ethos was pleased to find that the bathroom was occupied. If he had continued to the training arena he would have berated himself for showing, despite his instincts saying otherwise.

            A stack of papers on the lower bed caught Ethos’ eyes. They appeared to be his Fighter’s past reports. Picking one up, it detailed the first battle the Tiberius ever flew. The Navigator at the time was named Kirk, he was a decorated two year veteran who never failed to keep his team in the top twenty five percent - even Praxis was ranked among the top twenty percent of Fighters at the time. From what Ethos gathered, as the Tiberius continued to fly both team members’ ratings improved; until one report no longer labeled Kirk’s ranking. The next page showed a picture of Kirk with copies of his own files, but the image was obscured with the word “DECEASED” in all caps. From then on, the reports displayed a sharp decline in Praxis’ rating. A combination of being on a short medical leave and obtaining a new Navigator had crippled his score, and left Ethos with the most awful feeling.

_I’m slowing him down._

            “ _Sss._ Ah. Abel.”

            Ethos looked wide-eyed at the bathroom door. He didn’t want to believe that it was true, but he did just hear his Fighter moan Abel’s name. Should he continue reading the reports? Knock? Cough?

            The sound of the toilet and faucet water gave him his answer.

            He moved back to their bedroom door and opened it. Stomping in place, he closed the door and called out to his team mate. “Praxis, are you here?”

            The bathroom door opened and Praxis stepped out. He graced Ethos with a single glance and then moved put away the papers on his bed. “What is it?”

            “We should have been at sim training, is all.”

            “Well, I have my own training I need to do.”

            “I know.”

            “ _What_?”

            “I-I mean, you’re always so busy, so I’m not surprised…”

            Feeling discouraged, Ethos looked at the wall hoping to find another solution to getting on Praxis’ good side, but simply standing there was already irksome to the Fighter. He never wanted Ethos, he didn’t know what to do with him, and there were more important people that needed his attention.

            “Did you need something else, Ethos?” Praxis asked with a harsh voice.

            “Huh? Um, well…”

            “Do you want to plan a day for sim training? Is that what this is about?” He gave an irritated sigh when Ethos doesn’t immediately reply. “I’ll send you my schedule when I have the time.”

            “Well, no, it’s more than that, Praxis,” Ethos tried to coax. He took a tentative step forward while his partner marched around him to place the old reports in his drawer. “I-I know that you’re upset about our current ranking-“

            “I’m not upset, I’m disappointed.”

            “Okay, well...” Ethos stomped his foot in frustration. “Do you want me to be your Navigator?”

            A little shocked by the outburst, Praxis gave his Navigator his full attention. A nasty mixture of anger and hurt feelings was evident in his nearly tearful eyes.

            “I’m just asking because it’s obvious that this isn’t working out for either of us. Would you rather have someone like, Abel, be your Navigator?”

            “Everyone would.”

            “Right,” Ethos nodded his head, giving himself a moment to calm down from his previous outburst. “Look, Praxis, we don’t have a lot of time. We’re about to go into battle and the Superiors don’t have time to find us new partners.”

            “What are you getting at, Ethos?”

            “What I’m saying is that, I’ll try to be more like Abel. If I were more like him, do you think our team would improve?”

            “You’re not Abel, Ethos.”

            “I know I’m not, but what if I _were_ like him?”

            “You can’t,” Praxis said in a dismissive manner, moving to leave, but Ethos grasped his arm.

            “I can be! I don’t know what you want from Abel, but I can give it to you, if you want.” Not waiting for a response, Ethos knelt and reached for Praxis’ pants. “Anything you wanted Abel to do, I’ll do. No strings attached!” he hurriedly said, undoing one of the buttons.

            “Have you gone out of your mind, Ethos?!” Praxis shouted, shoving the blond to the floor. “You know that’s not allowed.”

            “But that’s what you want, isn’t? I heard you say Abel’s name during the battle. You said his name. You want him. I know you do. That’s why everyone wants Abel, isn’t?”

            “Only the sick Fighters want Abel like that, but Abel just happened to land with the sickest of them all.”

            “Cain?”

            “You don’t understand a thing that’s going on,” Praxis claimed, opening the door. “Don’t talk to me again about Abel.”

            “Well, how are you any better?!” cried Ethos, standing to follow his Fighter out the door.

            Praxis paused at the question, summarizing that he must have heard him in the bathroom. “… Because I’m different than the other Fighters – and far better than Cain. He’s admitted it. He’s nothing but a cheap whore.” Finished with their conversation, he strode off leaving Ethos in a stunned silence.

            Ethos was unsure of which Cain admitted to exactly, but he knew Praxis wouldn’t answer anymore questions. He could only watch his partner stride away from the dorms. More than anything, he wanted to talk to Abel and seek his guidance, but he was unsure how to explain the claims about Cain. He didn’t know Praxis that well, so could he trust what he said? Then again, ever since he was brought onto the Station, he had heard nothing but rumors about the Fighter. Even on the Sleipnir, speculations about Cain preceded the man himself, so should he trust what the majority said? Just this afternoon, his own confidence in Abel was brought into question, so was he still a reliable source?

          Was there anyone he could trust?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview:
> 
> “Is there anything I can do?”  
> “Yes.” Phobos answered, ejecting a small flash drive from his tablet. “We need to test this.”  
> “Do you have someone specific in mind?” Porthos asked, stashing the tiny device in his pocket.  
> A wicked smirk crossed Phobos’ face then. “How about Opsis?”


	8. 8

            The shifts had just changed. The teams on the other end of the Sleipnir were finally in a deep sleep as the north-end inhabitants were barely waking. It would be another hour until the head of the Sleipnir was in full operation.

            In room 246, Phobos and Porthos were fully clothed and prepared for the day. They had grabbed an early breakfast thirty minutes prior and were now working on their tablets.

            Phobos was seated on the lower bunk, his fingers typing out coding at a near frightening pace. He was not stressed or frustrated, but determined to finish the long awaited project. Meanwhile, Porthos was leaning against the dresser and wall. He was configuring his own work but at a less frantic speed.

            As the faint sound of the pads of fingers galloped over the screen, Porthos twisted his neck up towards the ceiling, stretching out the taught neck muscles. He glanced at Phobos, cocking his head to the side and wondering about the scowl on his face.

            “How did your meeting with Keeler go?”

            Phobos didn’t look up as he replied, “He didn’t show. In fact, he forgot!”

            “What was he doing?”

            “I don’t know, but I doubt he was in a meeting with Cook.”

            “Maybe he went to Medical, again?”

            “… For what? Nothing’s wrong with him.”

            “His old wound is acting up.”

            “It’s not a battle wound. There’s nothing wrong with him, at least that the doctors can see. I think he’s just addicted to the painkillers they have him on.”

            “How do you know?”

            “Coo- someone-... Ugh, a friend told me!”

            “Well, did they also mention that the Lieutenants have been looking for new team leaders? Red Team Captains, specifically.”

            “What?” Phobos stopped typing.

            Porthos shifted his stance. “I think it was the other day that Keeler was in Medical. Either it was the Senior Guards simply talking, or the Commanders recommended that they look for… _replacements_.”

            “Repla-…. No… They’re going to choose the Reliant! They’re not looking for replacements! Cook’s looking for an excuse to give Abel a promotion! That cock sucking-!” furious, Phobos turned his trembling hands back to his work.

            Porthos gave him a moment before continuing. “Are you still going to talk to Cook about this?”

            “I’ll _try_. His fucking secretary won’t let me in without an appointment, so I _have_ to talk to Keeler… I sent him a message yesterday, reminding him about the meeting, so he’ll probably reschedule today.”

            “Is there anything I can do?”

            “Yes,” Phobos answered, ejecting a small flash drive from his tablet. “We need to test this.”

            “Do you have someone specific in mind?” Porthos asked, stashing the tiny device in his pocket.

            A wicked smirk crossed Phobos’ face then. “How about Opsis?”

~~~~~

            Cain’s knees quivered as he backed into the dresser. He rested his ass on the edge, hoping to steady himself, but he couldn’t stop his lower body from shaking while Abel gave him head. At times, his pelvis would thrust forward from a muscle spasm and would slip him further into Abel’s mouth. What was most exquisite of all, were the fingers attempting to squirm between his cheeks.

            Humming, Abel bobbed his head over the very tip of Cain’s cock. He was aiming for the action to coax the Fighter forward so he could play with his ass again. However, he was so humored by the fact that Cain had to sit down, that he was debating whether to continue making him squirm against the furniture.

            “ _Abel_ ,” Cain moaned, massaging the blonde’s shoulder.

            The Navigator smirked up at his partner while he began to stroke him. In return, Cain affectionately ran his thumb over Abel’s scar, lightly tickling the pink flesh. After that quick breather, Abel gently pulled Cain forward by the hips. He kissed each bony ridge on the man’s hips and then trailed his tongue and lips down to the Fighter’s cock. Abel tickled the tip with his tongue, and then slipped him past his lips.

            Cain hissed and moaned as his Navigator pulled him in and out of his mouth. It was slow and steady, at first, with Abel pushing him out to the tip and then pulling him in.

            Once he grew used to that pattern, Abel began to gradually hum and quicken his pace by not pulling him out as far. Soon, Abel’s fingers were back to toying with Cain’s cheeks. They squeezed the plump flesh and then pulled the muscles apart, exposing the Fighter’s hole to the cool air.

            Cain leaned his head back and groaned, but was cut off when a lone finger penetrated him. “ _Ngh!... Ahh.”_

            Abel pulled his finger in and out of Cain’s ass, slow and steady, until the saliva and pre-cum he was using as lubricant dried. Giving himself a quick breather, he stroked his partner’s cock, collecting the sticky fluid there. Satisfied with the amount, he returned to sucking Cain with the same vigor as before and stretching his ass.

            Cain sighed heavily as he felt his climax coming on. “ _Oooh, fuuck,_ ” he braced himself on Abel’s shoulders and waited for the feeling to overtake him.

            Abel was bobbing his head at a safe but fast speed, and then he suddenly stopped at the tip. His finger slid out and then dipped back in with another accompanying it, both aiming for the Fighter’s prostate. Simultaneously, he slowly engulfed Cain within his mouth and hummed.

            Cain swung his head back and gasped as he came, slowly pulsing the semen out of his dick, and once Abel’s fingers found his sweet spot, his whole body shook. He couldn’t retreat from the feeling either forwards or backwards, the prodding extensions on his erogenous zone were too much.

            “ _F-Fuck, Abel!_ ” Cain gasped again, as he swung his hand back to grasp Abel’s wrist – a silent plea to ease up.

            Abel almost choked on a laugh, but he didn’t ease up. He let Cain’s cock slip out of his mouth and pushed his fingers harder onto Cain’s prostate, and moved his other hand between the Fighter’s legs to massage his perineum.

            “ _A-A-AAH-!_ ” Cain was wide-eyed from the scream, and had to silence himself with his hand, but the shocked feeling was shortly overcome by uncontrollable pleasure. His cock jumped due to the racing pulses of pleasure, and he wanted to jump along with it away from those fingers, but Abel eventually began to withdraw. “Oh, fuck...”

            “Did you like that?” Abel asked, massaging his partner’s shaking thigh muscles. When he didn’t receive an immediate response, he nuzzled his knee to remind him he was there. “Cain…” he said, kissing his leg and making him shiver. “I totally won that bet.”

            Cain finally opened his eyes but only to give Abel a sad attempt at a glare. “Two out of three,” he panted.

            “Nooo,” Abel said, standing. “We don’t have the time.”

            “That’s why we spread it out.”

            “We have work to do, Cain. You’re not getting out of it this time… You were louder.”

            The Fighter frowned as Abel disappeared into the bathroom. He ran his fingers through his hair and began to return the mattresses to their original positions - he would let Abel take care of fixing them. Next, he went to their dresser to grab a change of clothes. He was just slipping on his pants when Abel walked in.

            “So, are you free at eleven?” he asked. “I was thinking we could work on the Reliant before lunch.”

            “Sure,” Cain shrugged, while Abel pulled out his own clothing from the dresser. “But if you ditch me again I’m taking away your borscht privileges – permanently.”

            “I’ll just win them back again,” Abel smirked.

            “That was a fluke.”

            “It that’s what’ll help you sleep at night.”

            “Hmph.” Cain grunted, pulling his undershirt over his body.

            “By the way,” Abel said. “There was something I wanted to talk to you about.”

            “Right now?”

            “Are you going to be late?”

            “Nah. Deimos and I pulled some overtime yesterday after lunch.”

            “Oh, okay! Well…” Abel frowned. Again, he wasn’t sure how to address Cain’s three golden rules without attacking him. Vexing Cain would turn their conversation into a mine field, and Abel didn’t want to start either of their days off with an argument. Admittingly, he was angry yesterday and was irritated that Cain would have such dictatorship rules in place; but somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew there could be a good reason for them. Still, coaxing Cain into a civil conversation was a different matter. Not only that, but there was still the topic of Sirius.

            Cain stared at Abel, nonplussed by is quiet demeanor. It used to irk him when his partner would trail off into his thoughts, but now he found it worrying. He slowly moved his hand in front of Abel’s face? “Hello?”

            “Hmm?” Abel picked his head up.

            “I kind of lost you there. What’s eatin’ ya?”

            “Well,” said Abel, as a brilliant idea struck him. He would trick Cain into trusting Sirius before he even met him. In a way, he would be introducing him without doing so physically. “Can you keep a secret?”

            “Sure.” Cain tilted his head as he gave Abel a puzzled look.

            “Alright… But if I tell you, you have to promise not to mention this to anyone else.”

            “Sure. Fine. Just tell me whatever it is.”

            “You have to promise, Cain,” Abel said, folding his arms.

            Amused, Cain smirked and replied, “Alright, I swear. I give you my sworn word.”

            “Good,” Abel smirked. “Right. Well, I was with an old friend yesterday – someone who I haven’t seen for a couple of years.”

            Watching Abel, Cain slowly nodded his head as he began to put on the rest of his clothing. Meanwhile, Abel stood in front of the bathroom door, slightly fidgeting on his feet.

            “We ran into each other in the hallway – on my way to Cook’s office – and then we met up for lunch.”

            Cain stopped what he was doing. “Wait, so you were never with Cook? Why would you lie about that?”

            ‘Why would you lie about what the scar is really for?’ Abel thought before answering, “because I didn’t want you pestering him with your game of twenty questions.”

            “Pester–“

            “I’m not trying to be rude, but you really do butt in on my friends and I.”

            “You mean during lunch? You’ve never had a problem with Deimos and I eating lunch with you.”

            “That’s not what I mean. I wanted to have a pleasant conversation with a very old childhood friend – talk about personal matters. It’s pretty confidential stuff.”

            “Still, you could have told me.”

            “What difference would it have made?” Abel asked, as he retrieved his portable computer in the corner of the room. “Why do you have to know about my personal matters anyway?”

            As calm as he wanted to be about their conversation, Abel couldn’t help the twinge of annoyance he felt for Cain’s possessiveness. Try as he might, he felt in his subconscious that he would be the one to start their morning argument.

            “Because I’m your Fighter!” Cain remarked, taking a step forward

            “That doesn’t give you the right to know my business twenty-four seven. Fighter or not, you don’t see me spying on you or asking where you been all day.”

            “Who said that I’m spying?”

            “Wha-. I never –. No one said that, but are you Cain?”

            “No!”

            Abel glared at Cain’s hasty reply. He already knew the truth of the matter.

            “Besides, it wrong for me to be concerned about your safety?”

            “God. See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you. You get upset about the littlest things... Cain. I was safe. He’s an old friend.”

            “Uh-huh…”

            Sighing, Abel couldn’t help but notice the time on the wall. “Look, I’ll give you some time to accept this information. Let’s just meet up again at 1100 hours before lunch, and we’ll talk about this some more, okay?”

            “Fine.”

            With his left hand carrying his computer, Abel used his right hand to open the door to their room. He was about to step out into the hallway when he turned to look back at Cain. “But you’re still not going to say anything about this, right? I really don’t want the Commanders switching him back over to the South Side. It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen him.”

            Cain released a huff of breath as he ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m not going to tell the Commanders. It’d be stupid to complain about that.”

            “Yeah, wouldn’t it?”

            “Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?”

Abel rolled his eyes then walked out of the room, letting the door slide shut behind him.

~~~~~

            “Encke,” Keeler said, tying a rubber band around the end of his hair. “We need to schedule an appointment with the Reliant, today.”

            “Hmm,” Encke replied, heaving his padded suit off the hangar and onto his shoulders. “Alright. Before lunch sound good? I know Cain’s free around that time.”

            “Perfect!” smiled Keeler. He passed by his partner as he went to his bed to gather the files and reports scattered across it.

            Watching him, Encke finally asked, “How are you feeling, by the way?”

            Keeler gave him a curious look as he peered over his right shoulder. “Fine,” he replied. “Those pills are really helping.”

            “Are you distributing more work to your assistant?” asked Encke, zipping up his suit.

            Aligning the papers in a neat pile, Keeler picked them up along with his pad and maneuvered his braid out of the way. “Of course. What about you?” He cocked his head to the side, studying his Fighter. “You looked like you were buried under a mound of papers in your office.”

            “That’s because Artemis isn’t allowed to look at the Brig Files,” answered Encke, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against their closet. A small smile graced his lips then. “I can’t have him getting dirt on his comrades. It’s my job to hold their wrongs over their heads.” His Navigator burst with laughter. “It wouldn’t kill Luna to have a few more odd jobs – the little things that you don’t need to waste your time over.”

            “I know,” Keeler said walking to the door. “But I feel so bad when he gets swamped with work.” He opened the door then turned to look back at Encke, who was getting his own pad off his bed. “Don’t worry, though. I’ll give him more work that I don’t feel like doing today.”

            The Fighter chuckled as he exited the room and walked with his Navigator down the hall to the lift. There were faint sounds of movement and running showers in the dorms they passed – the signs that their end of the ship was coming to life. A muffled joke was told in one room, causing the two men inside to laugh; and as Encke and Keller passed, they couldn’t help but smile, too.

            “You know,” said Keeler, as he and Encke reached the lifts. “I think today’s going to be a good day.”

            “What makes you say that?” asked Encke, as he called the neighboring lift to take him to the decks below.

            “… I don’t know. It’s just a feeling,” Keeler smiled.

            Encke raised an eyebrow at him as the lift in front of Keeler opened.

            “By the way,” Keeler said, turning around and holding the door. “Who’s office are we going to meet in?”

            The lift going to the Fighter’s level opened in front of Encke. His attention turned to the movement and then back to his Navigator. “Yours,” said Encke. “Yours is cleaner.”

~~~~~

            The Navigational Center was in its pre-morning stages when Porthos walked in. Only a few stations were being clicked away on, and others were barely being switched on. The cooling fans inside the computers could be heard whirling to life, and then spinning a few cycles. The sound of the speeding fans were accompanied by many a yawning Navigator – it was still too early to speak with a voiced breath.

            Looking upstairs, where similar Navigational stations were raised atop a pillar, Porthos noticed that Abel’s seat was still empty. He smiled, pleased that Opsis’ idol wasn’t there to distract him.

            “Hey, Porthos,” someone said.

            “Porthos glanced over his left shoulder to see that Alcor had just walked in, and was taking a seat at his computer.

            “Where’s Phobos?” Alcor asked, smoothing back his red hair.

            “Sim training with Deimos,” Porthos casually replied, taking a few steps closer to the Navigator. “And then, hopefully, a meeting. Why?”

            “Just curious. I wanted to know how the meeting went, but it sounds like it never happened.”

            “Cook and Keeler were busy having a meeting of their own.”

            “Oh?” Alcor twisted in his chair to turn on his monitor and computer system. A stray lock of hair hung over his face as he glanced between Porthos and the screen. “How do you guys know?”

            “We’re just assuming,” Porthos replied, moving to stand beside Alcor as more Navigators filed in.

            “Assumptions are weak guesses – never assume.”

            “Well, this assumption is one hell of a promotion that neither Keeler nor I can agree with.”

            “A promote-?”

            “Woah! Who’s getting a promotion?” someone asked.

            Alcor and Porthos turned to see that it was Opsis. The young boy had a look of excitement in his eyes.

            After only a week in the lower Navigational pit, Opsis felt more than ready to receive more demanding work - assignments which were usually reserved for the Navigators and techs above. He was confident that he could handle the load. After all, he set a new score record for cadets taking the Navigator’s exam. That profound score was the only reason he was allowed to become a Navigator, months before he turned eighteen.

            Despite being the youngest aboard the Sleipnir – now nineteen – Opsis was eager to work on something new. He was tired of correcting faulty data alongside Ethos. It was a repetitive task, and while some of his comrades were content with the job, he knew he could do more. He wanted to challenge himself, like Abel. If given the chance, he was confident he could impress his superiors. He wasn’t considered a Prodigy Navigator for nothing.

            Hoping that his requests for a promotion were finally answered, Opsis stepped forward and asked again, “Who’s getting a promotion?”

            “Hmph. No one,” Porthos grunted his reply.

            “Oh… Really? Or are you just saying that?” Opsis teased with a smile.

            “Sorry, kid,” said Alcor. “We don’t know anything.” Opsis groaned his sadness as he continued. “Maybe Abel would know something?”

            Porthos caught the look that Alcor gave him and smirked.

            Tilting his head, Opsis thought for a moment and then replied, “Yeah, I suppose so – but he’s been busy lately.”

            “He’s always busy,” Porthos said.

            “Well, I didn’t see him yesterday,” spoke Opsis. “He seemed to be in and out of meetings with Cook or Keeler.”

            “Perhaps about the cloaking device?” Alcor supplied, finally moving his stray lock of hair back in place.

            “See, I wanted to talk to him about that yesterday, too… Gosh, I don’t think he’d hold out on us, guys. I think he’s just testing it – for safety purposes. You know? Doing something risky for the rest of the team.”

            Porthos couldn’t help but scoff at that and lean against the adjacent desk. “You think too fondly of him,” he stated.

            Alcor nodded his silent agreement as he turned to face his computer and log in.

            “But think about it,” Opsis said, taking a step forward. “No one wanted to be the Reliant’s Navigator before Abel joined.”

            “So you heard,” said Porthos.

            “Well, yes. I wasn’t on the same base, so, of course. But that was true, wasn’t it? That there was some freaky stuff going on with the Reliant, so no one wanted to join?”

            “It was the Fighter.”

            “Hmm?”

            “Cain. Cain’s the reason no one wanted to be that ships Navigator. They could only assign newbies to him after his first. Then, after his second got injured during a training run, people started opting out. Abel was shipped in, so he never heard about it.”

            “Still, doesn’t that say something about Abel? He was able to do something no one else could.”

            “Again,” Alcor interjected. “You’re thinking too highly of him.”

            “I think Abel’s talents speak for themselves. He could obviously handle Cain, so why not the cloaking device?”

            “It’s just the time he’s spent on it,” said Alcor, leaning back in his seat with a sigh. “We all should have it in our systems by now.”

            “Maybe he’s overworked.”

            Porthos wanted to make another rude reply, but thought that it was now time to change the subject. Abel or Keeler could come walking in at any moment. Pulling out the flash drive Phobos gave him, he addressed Opsis, “Speaking of time, I need to send a file off to Keeler. Opsis, mind if I use your tablet?”

            “Oh! No, go ahead,” the young Navigator said, happily handing over his device to his elder peer.

            “Thanks,” smiled Porthos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview:  
> “Morning, Praxis,” greeted Athos.  
> “Good morning, Athos,” Praxis said.  
> “Hey, did you hear about the new guy?”  
> “No... Is he a switchover or something?”  
> “Yeah! He just transferred from the South Side, yesterday.”  
> “Oh, how interesting.”  
> “I hear he’s a pretty nice guy, easy to get along with. You should get to know him before Cain does.”


	9. 9

            The weights clinked as they met, joining the chorus of tapping weights in the gym. The lifters heaved and grunted with the effort while humbler Fighters simply puffed out a breath.

            Praxis was one of the latter who was silently keeping count in his head, rather than turn his workout into a competition. Still he couldn’t deny that he wanted to growl and rage his way through his training. He was hoping his morning would flow smoothly with his thoughts of Abel, but Ethos had to shatter his qua again.

            The little Navigator wasn’t bad – they were dead, yet – but he was far from Kirk’s skill, and Abel has him outmatched. While Ethos wasn’t doing it intentionally, Praxis couldn’t help but feel depressed around him. It was as if the blonde was a sore reminder of how low he had fallen. Not in regards to the team rankings exclusively but in… personal matters, as well.

            Kirk was a professional Navigator who valued Praxis and treated him like a brother. They supported each other in all their endeavors, and aimed at being one of the top teams; but upon Kirk’s death, Praxis was forced to start over. Then, as if to add insult to injury, he had a green-horned Navigator thrust upon him. Meanwhile, Cain received the A-list partner who was beautiful to boot. Praxis thought the Fighter’s history would have prevented him from receiving a skilled partner, but he eventually concluded that Cain was Bering’s favorite.

            Glaring at the silver bar above him, Praxis cursed himself for losing count. He grunted as he repositioned the bar, and then began to count out a new set.

            _‘One… Two… Three… Four…’_

            “Five, ten, seven, twenty-four, eighteen,” a lone voice counted.

            Praxis set the weight, down gently, not wanting the individual to get the better of him. He was going to tell the little runs off, but stopped once he noticed it was Athos.

            The smaller Fighter greeted Praxis with a smile. “Hey, you need a spot?” he asked.

            “Hmph, no,” Praxis replied.

            Athos could tell that he had peeved him, but he laughed at the man’s sour expression anyway. “Well then, you wanna take a break?”

            “Sure,” nodded Praxis. Picking up his water bottle and towel, he followed Athos to the edge of the gym room. He remained standing while the other Fighter stood in front of him.

            “So what’s got you in a bad mood?” Athos asked.

            “… Nothing,” frowned Praxis. He couldn’t help but wonder if his sullen demeanor was obvious to his peers. “Why?”

            “Hmph,” Athos shrugged. “It just always looks like you’re brooding over something. Anyway, did you hear about the new guy? Apparently he transferred over from the South Side, just recently.”

            “Oh? Why is that?” Praxis asked while picking some dirt out from under his nails. _‘He’s more than likely another Cain,’_ he thought.

            “I spotted him in the hallway once, but he was chatting with some other people. I hear he’s a pretty nice guy – real classy, too. Some believe he’s from Earth.”

            “He sounds stuck-up.”

            “Far from it! Look,” Athos said taking a step closer. “I’ve asked around. Word is that Cain doesn’t even know about this guy. You should get to know him before he does.”

            Praxis paused mid-drink. “Why?” he asked

            “Hmm. Well, knowing Cain, he’s probably going to pit the new guy against you. Or at least slander you, you know?”

            “That sounds like something Cain would do – but why are you taking sides? You’re usually neutral ground between us.”

            “Right,” Athos replied sheepishly. “I _do_ respect Cain – he’s quite the natural Fighter – but I don’t like seeing him get one up on you for his own amusement.”

            “Thanks… I’ll think about it. I’m sure this other guy can’t be too hard to point out.”

            “Heh, if I see him first, I’ll be sure to put a good word in for you,” Athos said smiling. Looking around the room, he took a quick swig of his water then turned to Praxis. “So, spot me?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Luna was extremely pleased to be in the office early. The dusty and well-worn booklets on flying techniques and formations could finally be placed in an organized filing cabinet. His desk could be cleaned off, as well, and prepped for the papers and catalogs he knew other Navigators would bring.

            Every morning was a fresh start for him, and he enjoyed challenging himself to see how much he could get done before his Lieutenant arrived. His organized feats and skilled time management never ceased to impress Keeler. Easing Keeler’s stress and bringing a smile to his face was always a pleasant reward, and in the long run, Luna knew that he would receive a bigger reward; such as a promotion or letter of recommendation – or so he hoped. Yet, no matter how stressful their current mission could get, Luna pushed himself to his limit.

            Breathing a confident air in, Luna set about replacing yesterday’s folders to their proper shelves, and then began to make room for the flying booklets in one of the cabinets. He was just about to grab a rag to remove dust from the cabinets handle when the office door opened.

            “Oh! Good morning, Phobos,” he greeted.

            “Hey, Luna. Is Keeler in yet?” Phobos asked from the doorway.

            “No, did you need to see him for something?”

            “Yeah, just for quick talk.”

            Luna made a puzzled face at Phobos as he returned to his desk. He was usually good at memorizing meetings for the day. It rarely happened, but if he was tired enough his memory could fail him. To Luna, it was a disappointing thought that he wasn’t on the ball today. “Um,” Luna said, skimming through Keeler’s schedule. “I don’t see anything about you having a meeting this morning.”

            “It’ll be quick,” Phobos reassured as he stepped away from the door.

            “I don’t know, Keeler’s been bogged down with a lot of work lately.”

            “Well, I’m sure he has a couple of minutes to spare.”

            The door opened suddenly as Keeler walked in. He was about to greet Luna but stopped when he noticed Phobos.

            “Ah, Lieutenant, may I speak with you, sir?”

            “Yes, Phobos,” Keeler replied, heading to his office. “Luna, can you please make a reminder that Encke and I have a meeting with the Reliant at 1100 hours?”

            “Yes, sir,” answered Luna, while he wrote down the reminder on a sticky note. No one noticed the scowl on Phobos’ face.

            “Thank you. Oh! And can you pull out the booklets on flying formations?”

            Luna froze, trying not to look too disappointed as he nodded his head. “Sure thing, Keeler.”

            The Lieutenant thanked him with a smile and then led Phobos into the main office behind Luna’s desk.

            _‘I... I guess I’ll find something else to do,’_ thought Luna.

~~~~~

            “So, Phobos, what’s wrong?” Keeler asked, looking over his shoulder at the Navigator. The Lieutenant shuffled the loose papers on his desk out of the way before setting up his pad and newest files. “Does this have to do with the email you sent to me? I never had a chance to read it. I was going to reply this morning.”

            “I was simply asking if I could speak with you, and thank you for seeing me on this walk in, sir.”

            “It’s not an issue. Now,” spoke Keeler as he settled into his chair. “What did you want to talk about?”

            “I wanted to discuss the previous battle, and what happened to the Reliant.”

            “Oh?”

            “Sir, I don’t know if you and the other teammates noticed this, but Deimos and I saw the Reliant disappear.”

            “Disappear?”

            “It appeared to us that their ship has a cloaking mechanism.”

            “And this concerns you?”

            Phobos nodded his head. “Yes. Permission to speak freely, sir?”

            “Of course.”

            “Lieutenant,” Phobos said moving closer to the desk. “I want you to know that I’m not here speaking for myself, but for everyone who has this concern. It’s been obvious to everyone that Abel’s been working on some improvements on the Reliant, as ordered by Commander Cook; but the other teams and I are wondering when those upgrades will be installed in our ships.”

            “Well, now, I can’t really say. I’m not exactly heading the engine project. That’s more of a question for the Commander,” Keeler replied, leaning back in his seat with a sigh. “And that’s if he finds the technology adequate enough.”

            “But, isn’t the Reliant a lot faster now and agile? The Reliant’s ranking has soared and they are about to break the standing record.”

            Keeler tilted his head as he studied Phobos. From what he had glimpsed on the bridge, he was aware that there was bad blood between Phobos and Abel. He used to laugh at their childishness, but now that Phobos was bringing him into it he felt irritated. If either survived the offensive into Colteron territory, Keeler would have been happy to give them good reviews, but now he had to reconsider his opinion on Equinox. “Phobos,” Keeler said leaning forward. “I cannot help you when it comes to your... one-sided competition with Abel.”

            “Sir, it’s not about that,” Phobos said defensively. “No one had the courage to come and speak to you or the Commander about this. They didn’t know how to address their concerns, so I decided to take the chance to come and speak with you.”

            “Mm-hmm,” nodded Keeler, not truly believing Phobos’ words.

             Phobos sighed. “Lieutenant, if the Commander really is the one overseeing this, then might I speak with him?”

            Keeler tried not to glare as he replied, “I see why not. It is a valid concern, especially if trust amongst the teammates is being shaken. I will let Commander Cook know, but I honestly don’t see any changes being made to the other Starfighters soon. To simplify Abel’s project, he’s merely working on an experiment.”

            “I understand, sir.”

            “All right. Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?”

            “No.”

            “Then I’ll see you at the Center.”

            Phobos saluted. “Thank you for seeing me, Keeler,” he said, turning to leave.

            The Lieutenant nodded as Phobos left his office. _‘Sorry, Cook,’_ Keeler thought. _‘Phobos is coming your way.’_

~~~~~

            Abel breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped out of the Navigational Center. He stretched his neck over one shoulder and then the other, letting the stiff muscles loosen in the process. He walked down the hall to his right with a crooked stride. An uncomfortable tingling sensation was traveling up to his left leg and a sore nerve was pinching at his lower back, but he knew the aches would subside once he was half way down the hall.

            The Navigators who passed Abel in the hall could sympathize with his tense posture, and the forced smiles they showed proved that they were not eager to return to the lab. However, their break was over, and they couldn’t indulge on the soothing liquid in the break room; thus Abel’s reason for appearing now. He recalled that his comrades preferred their coffee and tea before they started their shifts, and no later than 0900 hours. Abel, on the other hand, was patient and appreciated the mellow solitude that the break room could give him.

            Turning to his left, Abel entered the miniature grey lunch room, speckled with blue wall pads that told the time and the ship’s heading. There were three counters along the walls with two sinks on opposite ends of the space. Several coffee machines and hot water containers for tea were plugged into the sockets on each counter, while trays of nuts and various breads were scattered along the counter across from Abel.

            He was about to bee-line his way to the bowl of honey roasted nuts, when a figure to his right caught his eye.

            He had never seen this Navigator before. The man looked almost a decade older than him. He had a smartly styled bed of hair that flowed beautifully into a beard that rivaled Bering’s. Though, unlike the Commander, this man’s hair was still ripe with color. It was red with a light tint of blonde that would more than likely turn white once he was older.

            Abel believed that if this Navigator were anywhere near the Commander’s age, then he would be a higher rank. However, looking at his attire, there was nothing to distinguish him as such. The only outstanding quality on the Navigator’s suit was the shirt collar outlined in blue.

            “Morning,” the new face greeted, toasting Abel with his cup of coffee.

            “Um, hi,” Abel said with a smile – the Navigator’s voice was very pleasant. There was a hint of the deep, British accent to it, but it had faded like so many crewmembers.

            “We haven’t met before,” said the man as he reached out to shake Abel’s hand. “I’ve been saying, ‘hello,’ to everyone who comes in here, but I haven’t met you, yet.”

            Smiling, Abel stretched out his hand for it to be grasped in a confident handshake.

            “The name’s Rigel.”

            “I’m Abel. It’s nice to meet you.”

            Rigel’s eyes widened in recognition. “From the Reliant? Sirius’ friend?”

            “Oh! Oh, you’re his Navigator?”

            “Yes! We just switched over.”

            “Well then, it is an honor to meet you,” Abel said sharing another vigorous handshake.

            Rigel clapped Abel on the shoulder then let go of his hand. “It’s fantastic to finally meet you! Sirius has mentioned you so much.”

            “I hope he hasn’t mentioned my more embarrassing stories,” chuckled Abel as he went to serve himself some coffee.

            “Not yet, but I have heard a lot about you from the other Navigators.”

            “Oh… About that battle?” asked Abel, setting one of the coffee pots down.

            “Yes! Extraordinary! We heard about it on the South Side, but I had no idea it was you! I only found out yesterday from Sirius.” Rigel said setting his cup down on the table closest to him, while Abel went to grab a plate of food. “He was so happy for you - so proud. Thinking back, I daresay he was in tears.”

            Touched, Abel gave Rigel a soft smile. He knew what the man said was true. Sirius had always believed in his endeavors of becoming a Navigator. He gave him the support his family never did. “I guess I should warn you, now, that your Fighter’s a bit of a softy,” chuckled Abel.

            Rigel laughed while Abel took a seat across from him. “He _is_ quite the gentleman for a Fighter. I’ve only known him for a few days, but I already see us making it out of this alive.”

            “I have no doubt about that. You seem very experienced,” said Abel taking a bite of his banana-nut muffin.

            The Navigator gave a throaty chuckle at Abel’s response. “It’s because of my age, isn’t it?”

            “Oh, no!” Abel said with a mouth full of food. “I didn’t mean it like that!”

            “Ha, ha, ha! It’s alright! I was just clarifying. Many crewmembers tend to ask me what my rank is or address me as, ‘Sir,’ straight off the bat.”

            “I think it’s the beard,” joked Abel.

            “And I am not related to Commander Bering.”

            The men laughed, making the morning all the more pleasant. As their laughter began to fade, a vibrating tablet on one of counters began to emit a buzzing noise.

            Rigel looked over his shoulder at the object, then got up to retrieve it. “It looks like my time is up,” he sighed.

            “Are you in the Navigational Center?” Abel asked while Rigel went to deposit his coffee cup in the automatic dishwasher.

            “The main one? Ah, no. I’m stationed in the other one, down the hall.”

            “Oh. Well, hopefully I’ll see you at lunch.”

            “Yes! The three of us should meet up for lunch - today or tomorrow!” Rigel said, returning to the table.

            Abel stood to shake hands with him one last time. “I’ll tell Sirius to send you my number.”

            “Great! And get your Fighter to come, as well. I’d be honored to meet him.”

            “Of course.”

            “Well, Abel…” said Rigel putting forth his hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

            “Same,” replied Abel grasping the Navigator’s hand in a firm handshake. “I’m glad I finally got to me to you.”

            “Till next time,” nodded Rigel. He gave Abel’s hand a final squeeze and then left the break room.

            Abel sighed happily as he leaned back in his seat. He threw a couple of honey-roasted nuts in his mouth, and smiled at the ceiling, basking in the jovial atmosphere Rigel left behind. The thought of convincing Cain to a lunch date didn’t break the mood, either. In fact, having another Navigator present might help to keep Cain’s attitude in check.

            Unbidden to do so, Abel’s imagination began to spin scenes of how the date might go. The possibilities were calmly played out – surprisingly – even if Cain’s jealousy got the better of him.

            Deep in thought, Abel mechanically began to eat and drink. He was pondering so vividly that the room’s sliding door made him jump.

            “Oh, Abel! I… I didn’t think you would be in here. I thought you always got breakfast with Cain,” Ethos said standing at the entrance of the break room.

            “Hey, Ethos!” Abel greeted. “Were you looking for me?”

            “Well…” Ethos began. _‘Not really,_ ’ he thought.

            Abel noticed a concerned look on his face, and gently pulled the chair next to him out from under the table.

            Knowing Abel was only trying to be nice, Ethos silently nodded his thanks and took a seat next to him. “Um… So, how’s your morning been?”

            “Fantastic, so far. What about you? Do you need to talk?”

            Ethos knew that his eyes spoke more than his voice ever could. Yes, he wanted to talk, but certainly not to Abel – not anymore. What was he to say? He couldn’t admit Praxis’ his attraction to him. There was a possibility that Abel would fall for his Fighter. Ethos couldn’t mention what occurred.

            “Ethos?” Abel pressed, concerned now with his friend’s silence.

            “It’s nothing,” Ethos replied. “I was just thinking about this upcoming battle.”

            “Oh… You know, we’re all going to do fine.”

            “Well, maybe you and Cain…”

            “Hey,” Abel stopped him. “Does this have anything to do with Praxis?”

            “No, I’ll… We’ll work it out somehow, but there’s no way the Tiberius can make it through the battle. No one’s can and we’re all starting to realize that.”

            “Whoa, Ethos, that’s not true at all!”

            “Well, Abel, it kind of is,” began Ethos. He thought that it was time everyone’s concerns regarding the Reliant’s improvements were brought forth. He wasn’t bringing this to Abel’s attention out of kindness, but for his own curiosity. Further, he was eager to know just like everyone else wanted to. They all had a right to know why Abel was sure to live. “You guys are practically invincible – especially with all those upgrades.”

            “Ethos, it’s not like that-“ Abel said, but Ethos was just getting started.

            “So many lives could have been saved if their Starfighters were as fast as yours. Maybe the Blue Team would still be alive, then. If they were just a little faster, or if their ships had been more agile –. Abel, do you realize how many people could still be alive if you had only allowed their ships to be upgraded, too?”

            “No,” Abel replied, slowly shaking his head. He knew he was not at fault for everyone else’s lives. Seeing his best friend on the brink of tears and talking so passionately, set off alarms in his head, too. Ethos would never say something like this. Praxis had to be the one who set Ethos in a bad mood… But was it true that the other Navigators were just as concerned? “No, Ethos,” Abel tried again, but his friend wasn’t looking at him. “The Reliant’s not invincible. It’s just that Cain and I make –“

            “Make a really good team. I know.” Ethos finally met Abel’s gaze, but it wasn’t as soft as before. He felt betrayed and he let it show as he continued. “So good that neither of you felt to mention your cloaking device?”

            As if slapped in the face, Abel reeled his head back, not quite believing what Ethos had said. “I… I’m sorry?” he asked.

            “Isn’t it too late for you to be sorry, Abel?” Ethos questioned rudely, as he got up to leave.

            “No! That’s not what I meant, Ethos,” stated Abel, following the blonde to the door. “Did you just say a ‘cloaking device?’ ”

            Stopping at the door, Ethos turned to answer him. “Yes. Phobos said that his team saw the Reliant disappear. Why didn’t you tell anyone that you had a cloaking device?”

            “… I didn’t know that we had one.”

            Immediately thinking it to be a lie, Ethos nodded his head letting the sour emotions marinate more. “Of course,” he said.

            After a brief pause, Ethos left Abel standing there, unable to think of something to say. However, he knew he needed to speak to Phobos about what he saw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview: “I’m not going to assign you another Fighter, Phobos,” said Cook.
> 
> “Oh, I’m not here for that. I wanted to talk to you about Abel.”
> 
> “Really? I thought you despised him.”
> 
> “Yes, I dislike copycats, but I wanted to go over the project he’s working on.”
> 
> “That’s classified.”
> 
> “I don’t think it is. There’s so many Navigators talking about the Reliant’s cloaking device. It’s got many people wondering why their Starfighters aren’t equipped with it.”


End file.
